


Breathe (Third Eye)

by FoxyPug



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And a snake, BDSM, Blood Play, Canon-Typical Violence, Erectile Dysfunction, F/M, Kind of non-con later on, M/M, Piggy is in love, Power Play, Ralph and Jack become daddies, Simon is batty, Top!Roger, Yoga, also Maurice is black, bottom!Roger, bottom!simon, chakras, top!Simon, was he black in the book also?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-31 06:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8567572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyPug/pseuds/FoxyPug
Summary: Maurice and Roger have an unfulfilled sex-life, due to Roger's erectile dysfunction. Jack recommends seeing Simon, Ralph's weird friend, who just came back from spending a year in solitude on a secluded island and owns a spirituality based-yoga-sex therapy-kama sutra-centre in London. Meanwhile Jack and Ralph face difficulties trying to adopt a baby and Piggy meets a girl on Tinder but is too insecure to meet up with her in person.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“I’m sorry, Maurice. I really am! Fuck!”  
“It’s okay. It’s fine, Roger…maybe…maybe I can be on top…we could try th…”  
“No! Fucking no!”, Roger punched the pillow next to his boyfriend’s head hard, before throwing it on the floor. His back facing Maurice, he lay down, burying his face in the soft covers, punched up on the side of the bed. A dark hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, humble fingers tracing their outlines on the white skin, following the various dark paths of the numerous tattoos decorating the body.  
“I was thinking. I know you feel insufficient, but you’re not. Baby, I promise, we can work this out. I am also aware, that this is not a physical malfunction. It’s simple nervousness, a fear that you’re not enough for me. But you’ll always be. So if we’d switch, maybe you could relax a bit more, as it will be me, who does most of the performance and…”  
“Will you ever shut up! I can’t keep it up, I won’t even get properly hard! I know that! You don’t have to remember me!”, Roger shoved the other man away roughly, Maurice looking at him horrified. “I never said that…”, he started out, but his boyfriend’s facial expression stopped him in the middle of the sentence. He knew how erratic the taller man could be, how in secondary school and college he used to beat up those, that dared to insult him or his best friend Jack. They had called him Merridew’s henchman, were deeply afraid of him. Maurice had never trusted Roger fully, their relationship starting out on the premise of a drunken night after secondary school reunion and a promise that they would try. It had lasted for a year now. The dark man looked his lover in the blue eyes, seeing the pupils dilated, his nostrils flaring. He was not sure, whether Roger was angry at him or at himself.  
“I’m going for a run.”, Roger stated and turned around, exiting the bedroom. “Babe…”, Maurice was ready to run after him, but he way Roger looked back at him, made him hesitate. “Don’t. I need alone time.”, the raven haired man said.  
Maurice sat back down, pulling the quilt over his shoulders, raising and dropping them again, feeling the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. He heard his lover rummaging the wardrobe; the chest of drawers and then he could hear the sound of the door falling shut.  
A dark hand reached for the phone on the nightstand, unlocked it with quivering fingers and dealt a number he had never thought he would deal deliberately.  
“Jack? It’s me, Maurice. We need to talk. It’s about Roger…”

The moon shone pale in the dark sky, illuminating the grey pavement, the small puddles left over from the rain earlier in the day. Empty lay the streets before him, red brick houses lining them to the left and right, as he stretched his arms over his head, cracking his neck muscles and took a couple deep breaths. One, two, three. But he could not shake the feeling of irritation. He never could. His heart beat loudly pounding in his ears, images of his boyfriend’s disappointed face, night after night, week after week, month after month. Every time they tried and it sent him raging, that he could just not do it. It was the most basic task every man should be able to fulfil, satisfy one’s lover in bed, or at least, get and keep an erection.  
Roger did the little jump he always did before he sped off into the darkness. Cold air pierced his skin, made his eyes water and the tips of his ears turn red.  
Three months into their relationship the problems had begun. There had been none up to that point where Maurice had come home, more exhausted than usual, but after some persuasion from Roger he had agreed to go to bed with him regardless, he had lain there, tired to the point where he could have easily fallen asleep, legs limply slung around the other’s pale waist. He had not reciprocated much, when Roger’s fingers had prepared him, lubed him up, so he could push the tight pucker of muscles, and finally he had actually drifted off into slumber land, without much warning. Roger had not noticed at first, but soon after cumming, he realised that instead of getting his boyfriend off, he had made him fall asleep, he could not even keep him awake long enough to see him finish. He had pulled out, showered the other’s face with kisses, before shaking him awake. “What? What? Oh…I’m so sorry, Roger!”, he had said, thrown his arms around his lover’s neck, kissing him tiredly.  
“I never meant to violate you…”, Roger had said after a long, uncomfortable silence, hanging heavy over their heads.  
“Oh, babe… you didn’t! I was just way too tired!”, Maurice had muttered, initiated another lazy kiss, biting at Roger’s lower lip. But the taller man had pulled away. “But…I didn’t get you off… I should’ve stopped…”, he had whispered in the dark curls tickling at his nose. “No, babe. It’s fine. I don’t always come!”, Maurice had reassured him , planted another heavy kiss onto Roger’s plump lips, before turning over and pulling his boyfriend’s arms around his waist. Light skin against chocolatey dark one, and milky moonlight colouring it white.  
“I don’t always come…”, this sentence has haunted Roger ever since. How could he have been ignorant enough to not notice this? Maurice was no girl, it was not easy for him to fake an orgasm. Has he really never cared about how his boyfriend felt when they were in bed? Has he really never paid enough attention to his lover’s needs and actions?  
The next night he had not been able to get it up. And it had been like this ever since.  
Guilt rolled over him anew, as he ran passed the local pub and for a split second he considered to just get a couple pints and get pissed to just be able to forget what had been bothering him.  
A single car sped past him, water splashing and soaking his trousers and shoes. He cussed, kicking a pinecone that happened to lay in front of him and it bounced of the wall it hit in the process. “Fucking hell!”, Roger hissed. Memories from the last months flooded his brain. Every single night he could not satisfy his boyfriend came to life again, while his feet pounded on the pavement. Every single step he took vibrated in his body, made his black hair bounce, while the cold wind was still hitting his face, refreshing, re-birthing. He was still oh-so angry with himself, could punch the next guy he ran into in the face, just to find an outlet for his rage, for his disappointment in himself. He needed proof, that his body was not broken or malfunctioning, that it was still doing what he was willing it to do. Pushing himself harder and harder, as his lungs began to burn and his thighs started aching, the cool air not aiding, but harming the soft tissue in his nostrils, his lips splitting open, red beads of blood staining the pale pillows.  
Breathing became a burden and he was not able to do so freely anymore. He stopped, propped his hands on his legs, and with his head hung low he panted like an exhausted dog.  
It was unfortunate for the tree to have sprouted where it had, because with a force not short in strength to an unleashed demon, he punched the bark, it gave in easily, as did his skin covering his knuckles painting the fair skin a dark red. Another punch and another, then a kick. He could not stop himself, the reason, why he had started running, completely forgotten, all the years he had been able to cope with his hatred and anger where washed away with a simple action against a living thing. He felt alive, warm, and in control of himself once again, all his fear of insufficiency gone and lost in the maze that was his thoughts. Reds flashing before his eyes, a roaring storm clouding his brain, and contracting, flexing muscles in his arms, that he could not keep from hitting that poor plant. Just when a splinter got caught in an extremely deep cut, he felt the searing pain chase up his nerves, he had to pull back his right fist. It resembled a battlefield, channels of red rivers, parted the landscape of white skin, crimson canyons ripped open the snowy plains. Warmth spread inside his chest. He has not seen his hands like that in a long while and the comforting heat of habit embraced him, leaving him feeling right and belonging.  
Roger sighed, glanced at the broken bark, shrugged his shoulders and turned to jog home, contend and happy. Maurice not on his minds for the first time in months.

The loud buzz of the doorbell, jerked Maurice awake, he turned only to find an empty bed, as he remembered, that Roger has gone out for a run. He heaved himself out of the soft bed, sleepily crossed the living room, to let his boyfriend into their flat. “Thanks, love.”, Roger muttered and pulled him into the most loving embrace, he had felt for a long time. The shorter man buried his nose into the other’s shoulder; let his hands wander to tug playfully at the dark locks. “You smell like fresh air. So nice and cool…”, he whispered, before kissing his cheek. Roger chuckled deeply, holding Maurice closer, his cold palms soothing the warm naked skin down until he could cup his partner’s buttocks. “Mmmh…Roger…”, the dark man drew away, to look his boyfriend in the eyes, only to be met with a daring grin. He sighed. “Babe…this is very tempting. But I’m horribly tired and I have to be at work tomorrow.”, he kissed him lovingly and wound himself out of Roger’s strong grip. Taking his hand, he wanted to lead him to the bed, as he discovered the injured knuckles. “Roger…”, he gasped, letting his thumbs glide carefully over the scratches. “Baby, what happened?”, he asked, only to be pushed aside by his partner, who only let out a growled “Nothing.” and disappeared into the bathroom.  
Maurice sighed, hugged himself and walked back to bed.  
When he awoke the next morning, Roger was already gone. 

“So you called me in the middle of the night, just to tell me, that Rog has erectile dysfunction?”, Jack grumbled, letting two cubes of sugar fall into the dark sea that was his coffee. “Exactly.”, Maurice whispered, his look fixed onto his hands, sitting limply in his lap. “You interrupted something very important, y’know?”, the red-headed man spat, jamming the spoon into the liquid, making it spill over the rim of the white cup. “I’m…I’m sorry. But Jack, I don’t think it’s physical. I think it’s mentally.”  
“There’s only one thing, that’s mental and that’s you.”  
“Hey, I was not eager spending my lunch break with you either, but this is not about me and you. This is about Roger, he is suffering and I am pretty sure, he beat someone up last night!”, the dark man argued, taking a shaking sip of his latte. Jack had always intimidated him. He had never felt comfortable in his presence. It was not his face or his unruly hair, not the freckles that were strewn all over his cheeks and forehead, not his frankly average features, no, it was his aura, his presence. His attitude, his conviction, that he was above and better than everyone else, that made one feel as if they were worthless, the moment he was around.  
“Come again?”, Jack asked, a mortified look on his face.  
“He went for a run after we kept…having trouble in bed. When he returned, his knuckles were bloody. As if he had gotten in a fight. But his face was as handsome as ever. I don’t wanna know what the other guy looks like now! He blames himself for what we’re going through. Maybe you can help and talk to him.”  
Merridew leaned back, eyes fixed on Maurice’ brown ones, his brows then furrowed. “I always told him to see a therapist regarding his anger issues. That’s what I said. ‘Roger, you need to do something about this.’ But no, he would not listen, rather chose running as a way of coping. Which, frankly, is ridiculous, if you have outbursts as strong as Roger’s. And I wouldn’t be surprised if these…problems he keeps having, actually were born out of his inability to get in…touch with his own body.”  
Maurice burst into a small fit of laughter. What Jack just had said sounded just crazy.  
“Get in touch with his own body? That’s daft!”, he giggled, trying to drown another fit of laughter in hot latte, but instead he just produced a string of bubbles as he could not control his amusement.  
“Yeah, Ralph’s weird friend Simon just returned from a secluded island he spent an entire year on. All by himself. Yeah, don’t give me that look, I know it’s mental, but anyhow, he owns a small yoga-kama sutra-whatever centre in Soho. Where people pay a lot of money and he teaches them how to breathe properly, as if we all were incapable of doing so on our own. Ralph convinced me to spend two hours there, sitting on the floor in sweatpants and barefoot, while this skeleton rambled on about opening chacras and how different positions could ‘improve my game’. Then he made us undress each other, all while looking into each other eyes and not forgetting to bloody breathe. Upside of wasting two-hundred quit on this maniac was that Ralphie was madly turned on after and we did on the back-seat of the car.”  
“TMfuckingI!”, Maurice squeaked, and jumped a little at the last sentence. Jack chuckled at that, took a sip of his own Americano. “Sorry, mate. But that’s how it went down. Or how Ralphie went down on me rather.” The dark man reached for the napkin, screwed it up in his fist and tossed it at his lover’s friend. “Disgusting and no filter! Just as ever!” They broke into relaxed laughter together. He had never had a non-forced conversation with Jack. Most of their encounters had been with other people and when they for some reason had met up alone, usually waiting for Roger to show up, there had been nothing but awkward silence and the occasional equally awkward question, such as ‘And what did you have for dinner?’. This meeting at Costa’s was out of the ordinary, but Maurice far from complaining; he had always wanted to get along better with Jack.  
“Maybe Simon can help you two too. If I tell him that it’s an emergency and that you’re our friends, he’ll do it for less.”, the red-head shrugged.  
“I dunno, Jack. It doesn’t sound like something Roger would enjoy, he’ll just snort, flip me off and walk out again.”  
“If you ask me…”, Jack leaned in closer, beckoning the other man to do the same. “Simon’s batty. No doubt about that. And if it hadn’t been for Ralph I would’ve never done it. But, here’s the thing. You two really get to take things slow. And there’s some heavy petting going on. If this won’t do the trick, I don’t know what, mate. Especially the knowledge, that you can’t do it right then and there, that you really have to stick to just exploring. In the bedroom, there’s a certain pressure. But there, you know you can’t go further. So no pressure, no need to shag. You understand?”  
Maurice nodded. Pressure. Somehow it had never crossed his mind, that it could be this, that caused Roger to be so tense and wound-up every time they were about to have sex.  
“Alright. Worth a shot, I guess. Give me his phone number.”  
“Tell him, that you know Ralph. Say, that you’re a friend of his.”, Merridew gave him a sly grin, one of those that made women coon and men’s knees weak, but caused him to gag. He hated Jack Merridew with a passion, but this was not about him, this was about Roger, who just happened to be his partner and Jack’s best mate.  
“Thanks a lot, Jack. Thanks for meeting up.”, Maurice said and after saving Simon’s phone number onto his, he got up and left. Jack downed his coffee in one gulp, took out his mobile and texted Ralph.  
‘You still with Piggy?’  
‘yo. Will be home around two.’  
‘Cool.’

 

“A yoga teacher? Are you fucking mental?”, Roger asked over dinner, roast beef with potatoes and the evenly bottle of red wine.  
“He’s not a yoga teacher per se. He’s kind of a sex guru.”, said Maurice defensively, using his fork to poke hesitantly at his food. He had known it was a bad time bringing up the topic, considering how exhausted Roger had been from meeting up with his family, that he rather would never see, as he despised them all. But Saturday was family-day. Said man crooked an eyebrow and a slightly amused grin spread on his face. “I’m listening.”  
“Well, he uses chakra and meditation and such to help people with their problems in bed.”  
Immediately any amusement was swept of Roger’s features. “We don’t have problems in bed.”, he said darkly.  
“But we do and Jack highly recommended this Simon guy…”, Maurice’s eyes widened in shock as he realised what he had just let slip. His right hand shot up to clasp over his lips.  
“Jack? Jack Merridew?”, Roger asked, voice several octaves deeper than usual, and a dreary undertone to it. “Why would Jack recommend something like that?”  
“I…”, the shorter man let the cutlery fall onto the table, hands shaking he reached for his glass. “I met up with him, because I am worried about you…about us.”  
“So Jack knows about my inability to satisfy my boyfriend in bed? And did he laugh? Did make fun of me?”, Roger spat, each word a tad louder than the first. Maurice shook his head, dark curls bouncing up and down, swaying side to side. “No, babe, he did not. All he did was saying that it could be pressure and we should go and see Simon.”  
“Don’t ever talk to Jack about this again! He does not need to know!”  
“But maybe we should give it a shot! I mean, the problem…”  
“We don’t have a problem!”, Roger now all but shouted, his hands clenching around fork and knife, face red with embarrassment, anger and disappointment, in himself and his boyfriend. Maurice, puzzled, retorted: “Of course we have! Or what would you call your inability to maintain a boner? Is it I? Don’t you find me attractive anymore?”  
“I would be able to keep it up, if you wouldn’t lie there like a dead fish!”, the raven haired man yelled, pushing his chair back and the glass aside, knocking the bottle of wine over in the process, red spilled all over the white table and floor, reminding the dark man of his boyfriend’s fists from the night before. He twitched in his seat, jerking back, when Roger tried to get a hold of his wrist. “What? Are you scared now? You better be, because as all of you have put it: I am a monster! Unable to control my actions, right?”, the taller man spat, reached out again and actually caught both of Maurice’s arms, dragging him off his chair and up, so they were face to face. “Is that not, what you and Henry and Sam and Eric have been saying about me in College?”, he growled low and the shorter man could feel his body react in a most peculiar way. “Oh, yes…we have.”, he panted, fear giving way to pure arousal. Roger grinned like a maniac, lifting Maurice up, one hand under the other’s knees, the other supporting his back, while dark arms were around the taller man’s neck, pulling the dark man up just enough, so he could kiss those rose-red lips that were Roger’s. He carried his lover into the bedroom, dropped him onto the mattress. “Be a monster for me tonight…”, Maurice breathed and Roger climbed atop of him.  
As much as he had hoped, that he would have been able to perform, as little was he surprised, when it had not worked. They lay back to back, naked and unsatisfied, when Maurice heard his boyfriend say: “Call Simon.”  
“I already did. We’re having an appointment on Monday at 6.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya, it's Foxy!  
> Sorry, that this chapter is so short, I wrote it while I was ill. I did proof-read it though :) Future chapters will be longer, I promise. English is not my first language, German is :) so please be nice xD  
> Was Maurice black in the book? I frankly can't remember, but he's in this work xD  
> There will be description of violence and kind of non-con later on, so be warned!! I will put a trigger warning before these chapters, of course!  
> Love and Hugs, FoxyPug :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey :) I changed the title of this thing, because I realised, that breathing is what all the different story-lines have in common.   
> Here are some TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of alcoholism, domestic abuse and violence, as well as bullying and the description of an asthma attack (which nearly triggered my asthma) and the London Underground (and the M25) around lunch time ;) (that was a bit of a joke here xD)  
> A always: English's not my first language, German is. Sorry for all grammatical errors as well as typos :)

Chapter 2

“Yes, this is Mr. Merridew. No, no, not Jack! You’re talking to Ralph Merridew. We got married a couple months ago!”, the memories brought a smile to his face. The blond man was sitting on the fluffy carpet in the middle of their living room, surrounded by piles and piles of paperwork. Who knew adopting a baby as a gay couple would be so difficult. It was not only the hostility that they experienced every time they walked into an orphanage to have a look at the children, swarming them, starring, that got on his nerves, rather the fact, that once they had decided on a baby girl and boy, they had to meet much higher standards than their straight counter parts. Ralph had had to quit his job, so he could take care of the twins all day long and Jack had had to plead and beg for a promotion, so he had a high enough income that pleased the authorities.   
Spending his days at home, feeling the walls closing in, watching TV from dusk till dawn, only disrupted by cooking and the occasional cleaning, nearly made Ralph insane and had had him wound-up for the first three weeks. In the night he had not been able to sleep, starring at Jack, who was fast asleep next to him and on one occasion he had taken out a pink Sharpie and had drawn the coolest pattern he could think of on his husband’s pale back. Jack had not noticed it until two day later, as a particularly hot day spent in a particularly hot office had made him sweat and dyed his white shirt a hot pink. It had resulted in a huge fight, Jack calling Ralph the worst names and Ralph moving in with Piggy, staying at his for at least a week. In the end his stubborn ginger-hubby had bought him flowers and a box of chocolate.   
Which was exactly what the Ralph was stuffing his face with at the moment, the lady from the orphanage on the other end of the phone. He could not help that whenever he was nervous, he had taken to food for calming his nerves. Sodding Piggy and his influences. He swallowed hastily, before saying: “Yeah, yeah. My husband’s at work. I am very sorry, but you can’t speak to him right now. But yeah…I got it right here. Will and Valery. That’s the two. Twins, yes.” Silence, he started sweating heavily, his shirt’s collar tainted with dark spots all along the neckline. He heard papers rustling and the woman humming a song, he could have sworn, he knew from when he had been about ten years old. The a small : “There!” and a wave of relief washed over him. “Here it is. Jacob and Ralph Merridew. Twenty-nine and twenty-eight years old, living in Croydon, Greater London. Married since May 7th, 2015. Is this correct, Mister Merridew?” “Yes! Yes, that’s us!”, Ralph all but cheered. “Well, no-body has looked over your forms yet, but, be reassured we will take care of that and call you within the next two weeks.”, she said. “But…but!”  
“I’m very sorry, Mister Merridew. That’s how it is. We will get back to you!”, with these words she hung up. Ralph flung his mobile onto the couch, let his head hang low and grabbed another three pieces of chocolate to stuff into his mouth. He needed to call Jack, but he was at work and rarely found time to pick up the phone anymore. Piggy then. His best friend he could count on. Fishing for his iPhone he heaved himself onto the soft cushions of the couch. Cushions. That was what eating all day long had done to his body. Not that he was complaining, years and years as the top athlete at his school, being on the track team, doing free running and skiing in France every other winter, had left him with a stick thin body and the strange craving of having a bit of soft curves, that Jack could pet and burry his strong fingers in, when they were in bed.   
Dealing Piggy’s number, his sleeve rolled down his wrist and the tiny tattoo of a cream-coloured conch peaked over the fabric. He smiled, lost in fond memories of his and Jack’s honeymoon in the Caribbean. How happy they had been back then and they would be so much happier still, when they had children’s laughter fill every empty, quiet space of their house. Little shoes in the doorway, tiny dresses and dungarees in the laundry, Star Wars Band-Aids and Wookie plushies in children sized beds. Although he hated being a stay-at-home dad, he was planning on getting a job as soon as their children were old enough not to burn the house down when they were left alone.   
“Ralph?”, Piggy’s voice emerged from the phone.   
“Can you come over?”, Ralph pathetically somehow pleaded. He heard his friend sigh. “Sure. They don’t need me here in the afternoon anyways. I can be at yours in like an hour or so? Is that okay?”  
“Yeah, that’s fine! Thanks a lot!”  
“No problem. Hey, I gotta go! Save me some lunch, kay!”, Piggy chuckled and with that he hung up. Again, Ralph sighed and let his head fall back a little to fast because it hit the white wall incredibly hard.

Piggy was pushing his way into an overly crowded Piccadilly Line, when he felt his phone vibrate in his trousers’ pocket. He groaned, where upon an old lady looked at him disapprovingly, as he tried, he really tried, to reach for his mobile. Like a villain in a James Bond movie, who wanted to blow up a train station in the least suspicious way possible, his fingers carefully felt for the device that had already stopped buzzing. A notification then. Most likely Facebook, Whatsapp, some like that. Cumbersomely he managed to grab it and pull it out of his pocket, discovering that Tinder had found a match. A match? Really? He was shocked to the core. He had been on the app now for quite a while, but the girls he had been interested in, had never been interested in him. But now, apparently someone actually liked him too! Anxious to find out, who that special person was, he opened the app and a gorgeous smile on an equally gorgeous face sparkled at him. She had short, red hair, natural redhead. Doe-brown eyes and creamy skin, plumb, pink lips and straight, pearl white teeth. A septum dangled from her upturned nose. Her name was Emma. What a fitting name for a cute face like hers! He felt his cheeks light up. That she had faved his account must have been a mistake, girls like her never liked him, they usually gave him pitying looks whenever he tried to approach them in a club. Or they flirted with him as long as he paid for their drinks. He snorted and felt his chest tighten. His asthma could not have made an appearance at a worse time. The tube was stuffed and unbearably hot, his jacket felt heavy on his shoulders, the scarf scratched the skin on his throat and neck. No, no, no, no, no! He panicked, his vision blurry, his hands grabbed his trousers, fingers pulling at his jeans, as his torso fell forward, his head hanging low. Nobody cared. The people formed a circle around him, gave him disgusted looks, as if he was a drunkard, cruelly sobering up from intoxication. It was like it had been in school, kids pointing at him, laughing, throwing dirt, calling him fat, a piggy and then there has been Ralph. Ralph, who had stood up for him, had defended him, like no other. The fair boy, the athlete, every one had admired and liked, full of confidence. He had been by his side, held his shoulders, had helped him calm down enough, so he could reach for his inhaler, made him feel safe. Ralph, his best friend, his best friend of them all. Thinking of his mate, he fumbled for his inhaler, found it and brought it to his lips. Freeing the gas travelled down his lungs and after two more huffs, he could feel his trachea open up, letting the badly need oxygen in. He stretched, back arched and he could breath again. And another deep breath and another. He felt so good and free. He could never be there for Ralph as much as he had been for him in all these years.   
A tall, buff man in a dark suit starred at him unashamed. “What? Got a problem? Never seen a guy having an asthma attack?”, Piggy spat, and looked back down at his phone, when he rose no reaction in the guy. A message. From Emma.   
-Hey, how are you? I’m Emma. I really don’t wanna bother you, but you look so adorable in this picture and maybe we could meet up sometime?  
With shaking fingers and quivering lips he texted back:  
-Listen, mate. I know you’re probably a twelve year old boy, using your sister’s photo for this profile. You’re waiting for me to agree to meet you in person, at some fancy-arse place so you can make fun of me, when I show up, sweating and red in the face in a fancy-arse suit. But, no bloody chance! Not gonna happen. I know your type.  
The people were pouring out the tube at the next stop, Piggy trapped in the wave of humans, rushing up the stairs, suitcases tightly hugged to their chests, pulling out Oyster Cards to press them against the sensors and doors swinging open. He had parked his car at Victoria Station, so he had to change to Victoria Line. It would take him about forty-five minutes to get to Croydon, considering the traffic, probably an hour and a half. Ralph then had to wait. He pushed a little girl aside, so he could fit into the coach, before the doors shut. She squeaked a quietly, but he did not care. No body ever had called him a nice guy, because he was not. Being chunky did not make him a teddy bear. His phone buzzed again.  
-I’m sorry. I did not mean to insult you in any way. I just thought…hey a nice bloke on Tinder, not a jerk. Y’know. And we seem to have much in common! I love books too!   
Somehow Piggy immediately felt incredibly sorry, if she was real and wanted to get in touch with him, he had been unfairly rude.  
-Send me a photo of you, in the next ten minutes, so I know, you’re real. ; he replied. I did not matter, if he was rude or not, he decided. He needed proof that she was not a made up persona.   
Another message. A video! The Underground stopped again and he had to get out, no time to look at it now. He boxed his way through walls of tall men and a group of Japanese tourists, pulled out his walled an pressed it to the sensor. “Please have enough money, I don’t wanna top it up now…”, he prayed. The doors swung open and he ran up the stairs into the train station. For a spit second he considered a coffee to go, but on the other hand, it would be a waste of money, as he would spend his afternoon at Ralph’s. And Jack’s. He dearly hoped not to run into Merridew today. He could not bear his stupid jokes and pokes at his sturdy figure.   
Slowly he made his way to his car, texted Ralph, that he was running late and that he was incredibly sorry. But he would understand, had to understand. London traffic was a burden they all had to live with. The M25 would be congested as always and he would not be able to go faster than 20 mp/h. Unlocking the car, he let himself fall into the soft leather seat of his BMW. It had been a gift from his auntie, given to him for his twenty-sixth birthday two years ago.   
Piggy switched on the radio, BBC Radio 1 blasted through the parking lot, when he remembered Emma’s video. He opened it and there she was. A Gryffindor-hat covering her head, white ear-phones disappearing underneath the rim and a Starbucks cup raised in her left hand, as if to toast him. “Hey there!” her sweet, sweet voice emerged from the device. A strong northern accent persistent in her speech. “It’s Emma! Thought a video was better proof, that I was real!” She laughed a soft laugh and then the video ended. “Fuck.”, he breathed. “She’s fucking real and I’m a fucking dickhead for doubting it.” He slammed his car door shut and honked once, out of pure frustration.   
-You’re stunning.  
Was all he texted her, before he started the engine.  
“Babe, Babe, listen! I’m sorry, Ralph! I know she’s a bitch. We’ve already decided on that. Baby…love…bunny. I have to hang up, lovely. Don’t be like that! I need to proof to my fuck-up of a boss, that I was worth the promotion! I try to be home by eight today, okay, baby? Yes, yes. I love you too. You have no idea how much I love you, babe”, Jack slammed the speaker down harshly. “What a fucking whore!”, he yelled, just as Eric entered his office. “Woah, hold your horses, Merridew. What’s going on? Who’s a whore?”  
They had known each other since Primary, Eric never being one of Jack’s close friends, but being pretty close with Ralph. They got along, when they had to and with Jack being Eric’s superior in the company they were forced to see and interact with each other every day. “You remember how Ralph and I want to adopt babies?”, Jack sighed, beckoning him in and gesturing to him sit down on the chair opposite his own. Eric nodded. Platin-blond hair fell out of place, but was pushed back immediately by busy fingers. “Well, that whore of a social worker won’t let us adopt them quite as easily as we thought. We meet all their stupid standards. Ralph’s at home, I have a more than average monthly in-come and adequate position and here we are, still child-less.”  
“That’s discrimination. You should go to court with that. Get a good lawyer.”, Eric suggested, all the while laying out the papers he wanted Jack to have a look at and proof-read.   
“If we were to do that, they would have even more reasons to delay the process.”, Jack argued, took a sip of his Americano and let his eyes wander over the forms and documents. He picked up his pen and signed all four of them after making sure they were correct.   
“They won’t. They’d get in trouble if they did.”, his ulterior said, making no moves to stand up. Instead he leaned back in his chair, made the backrest bounce a couple times and sighed. “Jack, sometimes it’s good to ask for help. Do it for Ralph. Do it for your husband. Your…”, he paused as a diabolical grin split his features. “Your BUNNY! Don’t you think I’ve not overheard you talk on the phone!” Then he started laughing like a maniac, holding onto his heaving stomach. “Shut up! At least I am in a legal relationship and my lover’s not my twin.”, Jack growled, collected the papers and pushed them in his ulterior’s direction. Eric’s face darkened and he pushed the chair back before standing up. He grabbed the documents and hissed: “Leave Sam alone. I was just trying to help. Go to court, Jack. Do it for Ralph.” Grimly he exited the room, the glass door falling shut behind him.   
Somehow Merridew was not pleased with himself. Eric had only been trying to be supportive and he just had to show his superiority. He should not have. But he was Jack Merridew; feeling bad for someone, who clearly deserved a good come-back was not something he did. He was a ruthless man with no feelings. But Ralph had changed that. Ralph and his stupid fair skin. Ralph and his stupid pretty face. Ralph and his stupid blond hair. Ralph and his stupid golden ring on his stupid left ring finger. Oh, how much he loved him. There were no words to describe that and this is what scared him more than anything ever had. More than his step father, when he had been drinking again, coming home late and hitting his mother. More than his mother’s screams and cries and pleas that he should stop. More than his sister’s tears running down her red cheeks, when he was sent to boarding school after receiving a scholarship for his ability to sing C sharp. More than the day he had returned home, finding them both beaten blue and purple, huddling in the corner of the kitchen and more than when he had just grabbed the knife and…he shook his head. Those memories where not welcome right now. He took a deep breath and Simon’s voice chirped up in his head: “Hold for five seconds, then breathe out. Do that three to five times. It will calm you down.” And he did.  
Another knock on the door brought him back into reality. “Yes.”  
Henry stumbled in, hair astray and glasses askew. “Your…your coffee, Mr. Merridew!”, he stuttered. “Sure, sure. Set it on the table…”, Jack mumbled and closed his eyes. “Go to court. Do it for Ralph.”, repeatedly echoed in his mind. “Henry, before you go…I’ll be out of here by two today. Tell the boss it’s important.” The boy nodded eagerly and sprinted out of the office in rapid speed. “He’s afraid of me too.”, Jack thought indifferently and reached for the cup of fresh, warm coffee. 

An hour and fifty minutes later Piggy parked his car in front of Ralph’s house. It was almost two in the afternoon now when he had intended to get there at one. “Bloody motor-way!”, he cussed as he rang the door bell.   
“Look, who’s home!”, Ralph said, as he ripped open the door sooner than Piggy had expected. He must have been waiting right behind it. He looked a mess. He wore a t-shirt, that he probably had not changed out of in a couple days, jeans that were to loose on him so Piggy deemed them Jack’s and a hoodie that had more than one stain on the front and even more on the rim of the sleeves. His hair had grown out too much and his face had gotten pudgier. “Hey, mate. How are you?”, the shorter male asked, politely ignoring his friend’s state of clothing as he pushed past him into the hallway. “Take your shoes off!”, Ralph muttered, then: “Come in. I saved you some Casserole. I ate most of it, but I saved you some. Jack won’t be home till late. So we can open a bottle of wine and get smashed!”   
“Ralph, it’s the early afternoon and I gotta drive home.”, Piggy laughed, entering the living room finding a nearly entirely eaten casserole. Other than that the house sparkled with cleanliness. Well, Ralph did not have job anymore and so he had all the time in the world to clean and do the chores, himself on the other hand tried not to think about the dirty dished piling up in the sink. He was almost a hundred per cent sure some of them were mouldy already. “Help yourself. Want some coffee? Or tea?”, the blond man rushed past him putting out another plate and set of cutlery before reaching for the kettle to fill it up. “Tea’s fine.”, Piggy mumbled serving himself some of the already cold dish. He shoved the plate in the microwave and set down at the table, pulling out his mobile.   
Emma had sent him a string of blushing emojis. He smiled fondly at the message. She was too cute to be true.   
Ralph set a steaming cup of tea in front of him, alongside with the casserole and himself next to the friend. Sleeves humbly pulled over his hands he gingerly held his own mug between his palms. “We’re having trouble adopting.”, he started out. Piggy nodded understandingly a sign for him to go on. “They’re treating us differently. We’re meeting all their standards. I quit my job for them. Only to get my kids. I want them so desperately and I know Jack wants them too. We tried everything. We even got married, even though I know that Jack never wanted to rush things. But they wanted husband and husband, that’s what they got now. Now they want more and more, higher standards, a bigger house. We can’t afford that and they know it. They’re only doing this to make things harder and in the end impossible for us, a gay couple, to adopt. Jack’s never home. He’s always at work. We’ve not have more than two hours we can spent together before he falls asleep, completely worn-out and exhausted. This job’s killing him and I’m tired of being stuck inside all day. I went for a run yesterday. I nearly died! I’m so out of shape!” He chuckled quietly.   
“You’ve also gained a bunch of weight. Soon they’ll be calling you Piggy!”, his friend said as a matter-of-factly. Ralph lightly punched him in the upper arm. “Jack likes it. He likes it a lot. He loves it, if you catch my drift.”  
“Gross. Absolutely revolting. “   
“Don’t be like that. I love what we’re doing too!”  
“And I’d rather not know what exactly it is, you’re doing.”  
“How are you?”, Ralph asked after a short comfortable silence. Piggy shrugged. “Meh. I’m all right, I guess. Had a small attack on the tube. But nothing to serious. Work was okay. Not much to do. Boss was in a bad mood and I was happy to get outta there. I can’t wait to resume my aunt’s shop. She’s getting to old anyways.”, he shoved the last fork-full of casserole in his mouth, chewing loudly he pushed the plate away. His friend got up and placed in the sink. They did have a dishwasher he just had to unload it yet.   
“How’s she? Any better?”, he asked.  
“Well, the cold weather is doing her back no good. Her rheumatism’s flaring up and some days she can hardly stand up straight. We should all die young so we won’t ever have to deal with shite like this, huh?”, he laughed dryly and took a sip of his tea. Too much milk, too little sugar. Nothing like the cuppa his auntie had always prepared for him.   
“I’m sorry. Is she not taking her pills?”  
“She is, but they’re not helping at all. She’s just old and I have to face that fact. Mom and Dad passed away so long ago, that I somehow got used to the fact that she’s there and they’re not. She’s all that I’ve left, Ralph. She’s my family. And I keep telling myself, that it’s only rheumatism, nothing serious, but I can’t deny the fact, that she’s not a woman in her thirties anymore, but approaching her sixties. She won’t be there forever. Nobody will. And I thought myself prepared for the worst because of what happened to my parents, but in the end I’m still a scared little boy unprepared for anything. I’ve yet to grow up. Last weekend I was so pissed I woke up in the same set of clothing I fell asleep in. My head was killing me and I was incredibly sick. I got up at three in the afternoon, ordered Dominoe’s and watched all the Star Wars movies, including the latest. I still feel twenty, not a day older.”, Piggy stared into his cup. Caramel liquid swaying inside, as the china quivered in his shaking hands. Ralph placed his on top of them a squeezed them a bit. “You’re not even thirty! I get drunk every other day, when I miss Jack too much or cannot bear the fact that my dad, the high and mighty Navy-officer will never talk to me again, because I’m gay! Then I watch re-runs of old TV-shows and laugh my arse off over things that completely went over my head when I was a kid!”, he cheered. “It’s all fine! No-one’s a grown-up, just because they’re nearly thirty! If they were, me and Jack would handle things differently than we do!”  
The door flung open. Both men jerked in their seats, as they had not expected an early visitor. “Babe? Who’s car is that in the drive-way?”, Jack’s voice hollered through the hallway. “It’s me, Merridew. Fat chance he’s cheating on you with me. I don’t care much for dick.”, Piggy sighed, disappointed that after all he had to deal with his favourite rival today.   
“Hey, love.”, the red-haired man walked in, wearing a grey suit along with an ugly green tie. He pecked his husband on the cheek, embracing him from behind and nuzzled his ear in a manner that made Piggy want to vomit. He hated happy couples so much.   
“Bunny-cakes, I was talking to Eric today and he recommended going to court. Y’know about the adoption.”, he whispered into Ralph’s ear as if it was a secret he dearly wanted to keep. “And I wanted to spend the afternoon with you, so I left work early to be with my hubby.”  
“Gross. Thanks for the tea, Ralph. I’ll leave you two to it!”, Piggy spat, stood up and walked out of the room.   
“Piggy, wait!”, the blond man shouted after his pudgy friend, but only got a “It’s fine. As you know, I love being stuck in traffic too much anyways. Such a joy. See ya sometime when you’re not busy having your face eaten.” And he was out the door faster than Ralph could run after him.  
“Leave him, you heard him say it’s fine.”, Jack said. “Babe, you didn’t eat all of the casserole did you? Well, then pizza service it is!”  
Ralph hugged himself tightly staring at the shut front door. He hated disappointing Piggy even when he knew he had just been over reacting again.

Roger war standing in front of the small Yoga-centre in the middle of Soho, rain pouring down on him and his umbrella set in the safety of his flat. He should have just gone home after Maurice had texted him that he would not make it due to an emergency at work. Emergency. What could have happened? Maurice worked at a coffee shop. Maybe he himself had realised how crazy stupid the idea of this whole ordeal was and had decided to ditch him. What a loving boyfriend he was.   
“I should go home.”, he muttered, as he entered the narrow building. Oriental music, the smell of sweet incense and the ripple of an indoor fountain hit him hard, as well as the unbearable heat that lingered in the oval shaped hall. There was a small reception desk at the front but no one was there, as well as a door to it’s right. He could neither see nor hear anyone and checked his mobile for the time. Five fifty pm. He still had ten minutes left and walked over to one of the soft couches surrounding a low table. The moment he sat on that monster of a piece of furniture, ugly orange-y with a tint of green, he was sucked in by the way too soft cushion. “Thank God, I’m only twenty-eight. If I was any older I would never get up again.”, he thought begrudgingly as he stared straight ahead, hands in the pockets of his thick jacket, trying to seem as unapproachable as possible. He did not need this. He did not want his and he especially did not need anyone else to know how much he needed and wanted this, desperate for a cure. He did not want to lose Maurice; he truly loved him although their relationship had started out on a bumpy road. And if this Yoga-magician would make his boyfriend happy than he was determined to give it a chance.  
Five fifty-five pm. Five minutes more. He started getting fidgety and wanted to break free from this hell of a sofa, as all of a sudden the door opened. A couple emerged. Both in their mid-fifties, looking happy and relieved. And somehow turned on. If the colour of their faces was something to go by, both of them were horny as hell. They hurried out the front door, she giving him a crooked smile, he hushed a “Hello” and then they disappeared.  
The door remained open, but nothing more happened. Until a few minutes later, at exactly six o’clock a man walked into the little hall. And Roger was struck dumb. This was the most handsome man he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was a good ten inches shorter than him and even though he was a tall man no one he knew was that small. And this guy was small in every sense of the word. Narrow hips and shoulders, a toned stomach, oh so small bare feet, small little hands and the smallest nose. Caramel-coloured skin and round, open green eyes that seemed to be constantly smiling even though his plump, red lips were not. Dark curls tugged up into a bun, flowers braided into the warm locks. His arms long and thin, just like his thighs. He was wearing nothing but a loose pair of weirdly shaped trousers that reminded Roger of the clothing he had seen samurai wear in the old movies he used to watch as a child.  
“Hello. You must be Roger.”, the man said and his voice was like sweet honey dripping of chocolate cake. Roger could only nod.   
“I’m Simon. Where’s your partner? Is he still outside? Should be wait for him to arrive or-?”  
“He’s not coming. He had a lot to do at work and unfortunately could not make it. And we know about your 24-hours policy and I am here.”  
Simon smiled apologetically at him and nodded. “Well, then I’ll have to work with just you. That’s fine. Because as far as I am aware of, it’s you who we need to work with. Come in.”   
Roger swallowed hard, when Simon turned around.   
He dearly hoped for more breathing and less touching today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I knew I said I'd update every Wednesday, but hey, I actually got some time on my hands, so here's another one, hope you enjoyed it :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya :) sorry for the delay, but my Hebrew teacher thinks it's a good idea to give us a lot of homework and a vocabulary revision every week.  
> And other stuff at uni happened as well.  
> This chapter is kinda rushed and I am so sorry for that. Especially towards the end it seems…I don't know…forced somehow. So I am aware of that. I hope I corrected all the typos when I proof-read it. I will go over it and edit it when I got the time.  
> TRIGGER WARNING: self-harm. That's it. I guess. and Roger being Roger. Oh and blood.  
> hope you enjoy this crappy chapter none-the-less  
> love, foxypug <3

“Do I really need to take my socks off?”, Roger snarls. He had not been fond of the idea in the first place and now, that he was there, in this girly-ass place, he wanted nothing more than to run away. It was not that he disliked the fact, that Maurice tried to save their relationship, no, it was rather, that they could have done it with entirely different methods. Buy some new, kinky sex toys for example or see a therapist. Well, a therapist is what Simon was. Sort of, at least. “Trust me. It’s easier without them.”, Simon said, as Roger stuffed his belongings into one of the narrow lockers provided in the changing room, then he stored his shoes underneath the wooden bench. The intense smell of the incense lingered in the air, filling the room up and penetrating his nostrils in an irritating manner. Simon stood motionless next to him, watching his every move, most likely analysing him, which drove him even madder. Jack used to do this in school whenever he was calculating whether Roger would agree on doing something most likely illegal. It put him under pressure, a weird sense of needing to do what was expected of him. As if something was expected of him.  
“You’re tense.”, the shorter man finally spoke up and Roger snatched his head around. “Maybe because someone is watching my every move!”, he snapped, but Simon gave him an honest smile. “You’re my last client today. No stress, take your time. I’ll be waiting inside.”, he made his way to another door, opposite the one they had entered before and opened it to reveal a large room with mint-green walls. A small chest was standing in the far left corner, yoga mats were scattered all over the dark floor. The music from the entrance hall could not be heard anymore, as the door that was separating them from the room was thick and solid. He wished Simon would have locked it and somehow, knowing that he was the last today did calm him down. His heartbeat quickened in his tight chest, sweat started breaking out on the nape of his neck, hidden underneath thick, dark hair, damp on the tips. “Take your t-shirt off too!”, he could hear Simon yell and begrudgingly he did so. He looked down at the scars that covered his white skin and the tattoos he had gotten to cover up those. A pig’s head on a spear, half rotten swarmed by flies, dead eyes starring lifelessly into space, as a thick snake attempted to wind it’s limbless body up the weapon. It was all black and white, no colours to obscure the raw image. He let his fingers glide over the picture, over his nipple piercing and hissed as the cold pads of his fingertips reached the ring. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine and immediately he jerked his hand away. He had not come in over a two months and this was the effects it was having on him. Neatly he put his t-shirt and jumper away and followed the other man into the next room.  
Inside, it was even warmer than in the changing room. Simon was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, his palms lightly planted on his bony knees. His eyes, always smiling, were following Roger’s every move. The squaring of his shoulders, the fisting and relaxing of his hands as he approached the younger man.  
“Sit down.”, he said and Roger did. Face to face and so close to Simon he could see his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths the faint freckles on the tan skin, that he would have never expected to be there. The collarbone was prodruting sharply mimicking a collar of a non-existing shirt. He was so thin but muscular and at the same time radiated health. These green eyes would be the death of Roger that he was sure of.  
He tried to sit up as straight as he could, his back aching as the made it arch a little bit.  
“So. Your partner has told me that you two are facing problems when having sex. Would you care to tell me what those problems are?”, Simon spoke up, his perfect posture not changing, his voice as calm as before as if he was talking about the weather rather than other people’s sex-life. Roger shrugged and straining he mumbled: “I’m having trouble maintaining an erection.” Simon nodded understandingly, thought about what had been said for a second and continued: “Has it always been difficult for you to get or, as you said, maintain an erection? If not can you recall when this problem first occurred?”  
Roger tried to supress an aggressive growl, but failed miserably and made his poor opposite twitch at the animalistic sound he emitted. How could he even accuse him of being unable? His libido was always something he had been incredibly proud of, his partners screaming and moaning loudly whenever they had had sex, telling him how good it had been, what an amazing lover he was. He was a strong man and not a whiny sissy that could not get it up. His body was tight like a bowstring.  
“No. I did not always have these problems.”, he hissed. “It started when Maurice told me that he doesn’t always come when we fuck.”  
Again Simon nodded patiently, smiling again. “That’s absolutely fine. Sex is so much more than just an act to achieve orgasm. It’s all about intimacy, touch and being close to someone we love. We form a deep connection expressed by the melting of two, or more, bodies into a single being.”  
The look Roger gave the other man was not only puzzled but also deeply annoyed by the spiritual nonsense he had been forced to listen to. “That might very well be the case for women, but Maurice’s a man. It is very uncomfortable for him not to come. So he in other words told me that our sex suck and I am not as good a lover as I thought I was.”, he spat. The weird, wiry guru in front of him tilted his head, a loose strand falling down onto his caramel shoulder and Roger’s eyes widened. His blue eyes travelled up the brunet’s neck, higher, following the sinew that strained the heated skin there and to the junction of jaw and ear, where he could easily sink his teeth into if he had the chance. He shook his head violently; both hands came to fist his hair, pulling at the black locks. Frustration came crawling up his back, kissing his neck and gently let its fingers ghost over his scalp trying to get inside. He needed an outlet for his aggression, needed to go for a run, now!  
Roger felt warm palms press down upon his shoulders and just then he realised how much he was shivering and shaking.  
“Calm down. Everything is alright!”, emitted Simon’s soothing voice behind him, he could smell the other man so distinctly, so clear that he thought he might pass out from the intensity of it all and they had not even started yet.  
Strong thumbs all of a sudden dug into the soft flesh between his shoulder plates. “Clearly your root chakra is tightly shut. We need to open it in order to ground you a bit more and to have the therapy work.”, the guru chirped.  
“Root what?”, Roger sighed, too annoyed with everything to be confused anymore.  
“Root Chakra. It is located in your lower abdomen and is assigned the colour red.”, Simon’s nimble hands glided down his chest and stomach to come to rest right above his pelvis. Roger could feel his innards stir in excitement and anger alike, the warmth the palms were eradiating quickly spread through his bowels and down his legs, the man was halfway hanging over his shoulder now, his left cheek pressed against Roger’s right one. He could feel the fine hairs tickle his skin and he could not help closing his eyes and deeply breathing in the mouth-watering scent that was Simon’s. It filled his nostrils and scorching fire raced through his entire being, burning his very core. He let out a low growl.  
The other man then just chuckled and straightened up again. “Yes. I can tell that we have a lot of work to do. You’re so tense. With so much held-in aggression. It’s because your root chakra is blocked.” He sat down in front of Roger; crossed-legged, just like before and let the backs of his hands sit on to of his knees. Each index finger and thumb forming an ‘O’ and he closed his eyes.  
He instructed his client to do the same and went on: “Breathe deeply and regularly. Relax. Feel the air fill your lungs and nourish your body. With each breath you feel lighter but at the same time you feel more grounded. Feel the softness of the matt under your buttocks.”  
The taller man tried his best, but could not focus on the task fully that reminded him so much of the anti-aggression training they had had him do in primary school. He had had beheaded a squirrel with a butterfly knife he had had stolen from his older brother as well as beaten another student’s face into a bloody mess after Jack had had him told to do so.  
He could barely hear Simon’s thin voice. “Now focus on the spot between your genitals and your anus. This is where your root chakra is. Now chant LAM. You should be able to feel it vibrate through your body and shaking the chakra’s blocked gates.”  
Roger had to summit all his self-control to not laugh aloud. This was so messed up. This guy was as batty as they come. Nuts. But this was for Maurice and also he did quite enjoy the batty kid’s company. His bum’s company, rather. Although, he did what he was told and somehow it did him relax quite a bit. Simon’s voice was rich and full and at the same time so quiet and thin. He had never in his life heard someone talk in such a manner. Tranquillity of some sorts rushed over him as he took another deep breath. The more he concentrated on the spot he was advised on concentrating the more grounded he felt as well as the surface of the matt pressing onto his thighs.  
“You’re doing so well, Roger.”, Simon praised him, unnecessary frankly, but it did make him feel good. And he felt as if he had not been praised or complimented in years. Everybody, especially at work and Maurice, had taken everything he had done well for granted. They had only ever pointed out his flaws, mess-ups and mistakes that he made. Never once in the last however-many months had someone just said: “Well done.”  
“Very good. Focus on the spot. Feel it relax and feel the chakra spread free.”, the caramel-skinned man hushed and for a second Roger felt as if he was standing right behind him, then he realised that the guru was walking in circles around him only to kneel down close to him on his left side when he deemed the meditation exercised finished for the day. Again he placed his soft palm atop Roger’s shoulder and said: “Alright. Enough breathing for tonight. I had an exercise planned involving your boyfriend. But as he is not here, I will work as a substitute.” Blue eyes opened languidly and met green star-light, smiling all on it’s own even when he was talking. Mesmerised he stared at the other’s face unable to do anything but nod. He did not care anymore. Everything Simon wanted Roger would do.  
“We need to figure out what it is that makes you nervous enough to lose sexual desire.  
But first we also need to talk about your sex-life a little bit more. Most people choose to mix things up in the bedroom a bit from time to time. What is it you would like your boyfriend to do for you once in a while?”, if it was physically possible he would love to drown in this lovely sing-song that was Simon’s voice. As a former member of the school choir he knew what he was talking about.  
“We just…we have sex. Maurice usually is a very funny and out-going person, but in bed he likes to switch off the lights and just…I don’t know, get it over with.”, Roger shrugged.  
“But what do you want?”  
“I want to hold him down and eat him alive.”, he was more than terrified when he could not stop these words from leaving his lips. Startled he realised that Simon took no offense in them he merely tilted his head in a ‘I’ve seen and heard it all’ kind of gesture and smiled again.  
“So, you’re a dominant one. Does your boyfriend know about that?”  
Roger shook his head no.  
“Very well, then I want you to do anything you want to do to Maurice to me.”, Simon said.  
His client’s eyes widened in shock, his shoulders sacked and he could not keep from huffing out hot air. He could not be serious. That was ridiculous.  
“It’s an experiment to see if it is Maurice’s actions rather than anything else that keep you from having-“, the dark-haired guru was not able to finish the sentence because Roger would not let him. He launched his body onto the smaller man, throwing him onto the matt. Simon winced as his bony back hit the ground hard and the much stronger, much more muscular man pressed him down mercilessly.  
“I want to hold him down.”, a diabolical grin spread on Roger’s handsome features and the look on his face seemed completely detached from the man Simon had met not half an hour earlier. His whole demeanour had changed. He seemed dangerous. Wild. Like an uncontrollable forest fire.  
“I want to place my hands around his delicate little neck.”, he went on, doing exactly that and Simon’s bod way jolted in fear and terror. But otherwise he remained calm. He knew that panicking was neither the answer nor the solution to any problem. Roger squeezed down, putting slight pressure on his jugular and trachea and he could feel his eyelids flutter close. And he could feel something else much lower on the taller man’s body. His client’s penis was pressing hard against his thigh as Roger’s hips subtly rolled down against his. Simon emitted a sharp breath when the other’s member stroked his oh so delicately though his thin trousers.  
“I wanna bite his neck. I want to mark him. Mark him as my property. I want to bite down.” And he did. Simon nearly screamed in pain and pleasure alike, his hips jerking up to meet Roger’s as his arms found their way around the man’s strong back. Pearl-white teeth sunk themselves into creamy tanned skin, sharp pain rushed through his neck, galloped down his spine and he screwed his eyes shut tighter. “Roger…”, he panted heavily. A tongue traced over his neck right up to his ear, just so it could be replaced by teeth again. Roger started humping him in earnest now. Hard and unforgiving he brought his hips down, nearly crushing the smaller man’s body with his force. He was so strong. He was superior. “I wanna draw blood. I want to drink his blood!”, he growled, voice disembodied and almost supernatural in its eeriness. The pressure of the teeth on his throat increased and with a pang of pain he felt his skin give in, split, and his blood fill Roger’s mouth. Who moaned in pure sadistic pleasure and started sucking hard, eager to take all Simon had to offer to the very last drop. Roger was incredibly strong. Almost like a demon. His aura had turned dark and Simon was not sure if his body was shaking heavily out of fear or undeniable arousal. “Roger…”, he breathed. His fingers lightly scratching the other’s back.  
And then everything was over. Too soon for Simon’s liking as the other man erupted in his trousers. He himself had come the moment Roger had drawn his blood.  
The taller man’s plumb lips were covered in red. Crimson smeared all over the porcelain white skin of his face as he lifted his head to look Simon in his kind eyes. Pupils blown wide, black dominating the sky-blue of his irises and the guru could not help but draw parallels between that phenomenon and the demon that had all of a sudden taken over Roger’s body.  
“I’m sorry!”, Roger blurted out suddenly pushing himself up. “What?”, Simon gave him a puzzled look but the other man was already hurrying out the door. Immediately he ran after him, finding him by the locker ripping out his clothes.  
“I didn’t mean for this to happen again!”, the raven-haired man shouted, almost screamed as he pulled his t-shirt over this head. “Not again! I didn’t mean to cheat on Maurice! I’m so stupid! So useless! So incredibly disgusting! I’m vile and good for nothing! I’m a monster!”  
Simon was not sure if he was still talking to him or just insulting himself. He could feel the pressure under the other’s skin, the tight ball of hate pushing from the inside out. His body was shaking, eyes staring into space, not blinking as he went on about how gross and revolting he was.  
“Roger…”, Simon placed a hand on his client’s back but it was batted away in an instant. “  
“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”, he screamed at the top of his lungs and then he hit himself harshly on the lower arm. A red spot appeared the moment he drew his fist away. Simon was sure it would be blue in the morning. Tears streaming down his face the taller man looked at the guru and murmured: “I’m sorry. I’m going to leave.” He turned and ran.  
Simon decided to give him a little while before he himself walked into the little hall. A bundle of money had been placed on the reception desk and a dull ache pulsated in his neck.

“You don’t think it’s weird, that we’re living together, right?”, Eric asked shoving an overflowing handful of crisps in his mouth.  
“No, why?”, Sam answered, his feet in his brother’s lap. They were sitting on the couch in their living room playing video games and snacking on various unhealthy treats.  
“Because Merridew said we’re in an incestuous relationship.”, the slightly older twin continued and Sam simply shrugged. “Merridew can suck it. I don’t care what he says. And for the record: If I was to be in an incestuous relationship it would be you I’d chose for sure.”  
“Awww. Thanks. And there you could’ve had cousin Terry.”  
“Fuck no! Terry? The one that ate a bug and a booger in that order when he was like fifteen?!”  
“That Terry.”  
Sam shuddered with disgust. “I would never kiss Terry! You, on the other hand…”, he smiled and winked at his brother who started laughing heavily, crumps falling out of his mouth finding a new home on his shirt. “It has always been you and always will.”, Sam continued before leaning forward to peck his sibling on the cheek.  
“I’m quite content living with you forever until we die. I don’t see the appeal in having a partner anyways. Kissing and sex…just seems so unnecessary.”, Eric said. His face screwing up in disgust at the thought of being so close to someone.  
“It does seem like a waste of time. If people would stop caring so much about it they would’ve more time at their hands. For instance to play video games and…”  
“…shoot their brother’s character!”  
Eric winced at the white letters on black background spelling GAME OVER.

Maurice was busy. He had not been this busy in weeks and the costumers kept coming and coming. The steamer made a hissing sound as he dipped it into the hot milk and for whatever reason he vaguely remembered an old Stephen King story about a possessed laundry press that killed people whenever they tried to use it. If the coffeemaker ever came to life and started haunting him and his co-workers he would probably not even be shocked. He hated that sound the steamer made. He was in an especially lousy mood because he had had to cancel plans with Roger who had not sounded very pleased. Why should he? It had been Maurice’s idea all along but the loving boyfriend the older man was he did go anyways. That was what the barista hoped for at least. As far as he knew Roger he might as well have spent the afternoon at a pub.  
He placed the hot mug carefully onto a white small plate before passing it on to his colleague. Just two hours more. Then he was finally free.  
Another costumer approached him. It was a shy, thin man in fancy clothes. A tousled mob of blond hair was framing his face as well as a delicate pair of glasses atop of his nose. He seemed tense, his long fingers fumbling non-stop with the hem of his sleeve.  
“Rough day, huh?”, Maurice beamed. “What can I get you?”  
“Uhm…a gingerbread latte please…”, he mumbled and the barista was almost sure he had had a hard time deciding on a drink in the first place.  
“What’s eating away at you?”, somehow these words left the dark man’s mouth. He was not sure why or, admittedly, how, but they did. The other man gave him a puzzled look before replying: “My boss…he’s…he’s a bad human being.” Maurice burst out in laughter. The last time he had heard someone describe another man they had been talking about Jack Merridew. “He’s ruthless and almost cruel. I’m pretty sure he only sees his employees as the means to a certain end.”  
Yep, exactly like Jack. Maurice gave the shy man a dashing smile and said: “You know what? Here! You get a Jack-the-Snowman-cakepop for free!” He picked up the treat, a sugary snowman formed of three scoops of cake. “Jack. That’s his name…”, the younger man whispered. “What a coincidence!”, Maurice thought.  
“I got a friend who’s name’s Jack. He’s a dickhead too!”, he laughed. “Maurice!”, one of his co-workers yelled. “Pretty boy’s not the only one waiting for his coffee!”  
At these words ‘pretty boy’ blushed a deep crimson. “Was that to have in or take-away?”, the barista then asked.  
“Take away please.”  
“And does the pretty boy have a name?”  
“Henry.”  
Maurice smiled fondly at him one last time before collecting his money and sending him off. 

When Henry took his cup he realised that something was written right underneath the letters of his name:  
‘If you ever wanna trash-talk about Jack, here’s my number!’ followed by an eight digit number and a ‘XOXO, Maurice. Pretty boy ;)’  
He hid his timid smile behind his hot paper-cup, but his heart was beating loudly in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: English's not my first language, German is :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my fellow Lord of the Flies fans. I am terribly sorry that I had this story on hiatus for a YEAR. I know, I know, I'm a prick, but things have been complicated and uni was a lot and blah blah, I am stalling. I am sorry. Anyhow. This is a very long chapter to make it up to you, my lovelies :D  
> So: There will be Jalph porn (as requested) and I have a thing to say about that. I am not an innocent virgin, so all thing described in this chapter are things me and my partner do (minus the daddy-kink) and for me plenty of lube and going right in is enough. Stretching feels horribly unpleasant and fingers are uncomfortable to have in there. That was all. I am sorry for the TMI but I wanted to avoid having to deal with complaints, about how mean Jack is for not preparing poor Ralphie properly. So now, without further ado:  
> Chapter FOUR!!  
> (a year late.)

Jack ran his long fingers gently up his boyfriend’s thigh, higher and higher, until he reached the spot where leg and hip met and lazily started drawing invisible circles on the bone. It used to stick out sharply, but now it was concealed by the teeniest amount of flesh. “Jack?”, Ralph asked his eyes flicking over to the other man who simply raised an eyebrow, giving him a smirk. “Don’t tell me you finally want to have sex again.”, Ralph leaned in pressing his forehead against the red-heads. The blond man’s hand travelled up his husband’s arm, coming to rest on his shoulder whereupon Jack leaned in, capturing the other’s lips in his. A rather chaste kiss it was, considering they had been married for a while and had shared everything with another. Ralph, overwhelmed with feeling and emotions, threw his arms around the taller man’s neck and pulled him closer. He smiled into the kiss while Jack’s hands lovingly caressed his hip and back holding him tight. “I love you.”, the red-head whispered against his husband’s mouth lightly nibbling on his lower lip. Even the slightest of his husband’s touches set him ablaze; he was burning from the inside out. The blond smiled into the kiss, letting his tongue grace the other’s, encouraged it to dance a passionate tango. A well known performance, one, that has been played many times and yet has to grow old. He was so comfortable in his husband’s arms, as if they were a single being, a unity, that no one could divide. “Jack…”, he sighed, as the taller man traced small kisses down the snow-white throat, kissed every millimetre of skin, that was not covered by his own old jumper. “Why do you keep this horrid old thing? I threw it out a year ago!”, he chuckled against Ralph’s shoulder. “It smells of you. It carries your scent!”, said man sighed and hugged the other closer to himself. “You should put it in the wash once in a while!”, Jack laughed, heaving himself up, so he could nibble on the younger man’s ear lobe. “Love.”, he said. “I got you something! Wait here!”, he jumped up, leaving his lover confused and cold on the sofa, the brown leather cool against the heated skin. Ralph sat up and pulled the jumper over his head to toss it far away from him and did the same with his pyjama bottoms. Far out of reach, so he would not have to put them on again any time soon. Electricity shot through his body, just underneath his skin, as Jack sat down, his side pressed against his lover’s and told him to shut his eyes, leaving the blond wondering what was going to happen next. He heard the rustling of plastic and recognised the faint scent of chocolate in the air. Confused he attempted to crack one eye open, just slightly, but Jack immediately covered it with his long-fingered hand, the back littered with light brown freckles, matching his face and shoulders. Something Jack has been rather self-conscious about all his life, and learned to accept only recently. “A-ah, no peaking now! Daddy will take good care of you…”, he pretend-scolded him, whereupon Ralph shoved his hand away and started giggling uncontrollably. “Daddy? Are you kidding me, Jack, really…are those chocolate truffles?” Upon his husbands lap sat a fancy looking box filled with expensive candies in all shapes and sizes. It seemed rather pricey and not something the other man would bring home on a daily basis. He must have had planned a special night and Ralph felt more than flattered, so why deny his lover a thing, that he might have wanted to do for a while now? Was it really worse than being a little too much into being fed while praised alongside? He cleared his throat, leaned seductively closer and breathed hotly into the taller man’s ear: “So, Daddy, have I been a good boy? Do I deserve a treat?”  
He had always known that Jack got off on exerting power over others, especially him, his nemesis in school, the goody-two-shoes, so why had he been legitimately surprised by Jack’s Daddy-kink? The other blushed a bright crimson, his hands shook lightly, as he picked out the first treat for his husband. A rectangular shaped candy, apparently filled with something, that slightly coloured it red and placed it upon his lips. “Such a good boy. Such a perfect boy for me. Now open wide for daddy.”, he breathed hotly against the other’s cheek. Ralph obeyed the command, his crotch tingling with excitement. God, who would’ve known that this would arouse him so much? He wanted to be such a good boy for Jack, for his daddy. Jack pushed the praline past the other lips and watched him suck on it for a short while, before eating it with great pleasure. He heard Jack’s breath hitch and was confirmed that he was doing it right. The red-head let his tongue travel over the shorter man’s earlobe, making him shiver and offered him another treat, which Ralph took with gratitude, swallowing it greedily.  
“God, look at you! Such a lovely boy, taking everything into his mouth that his daddy offers him.”, he crooned, yanking his silken blond hair back and pushing him onto his knees, between his thighs and pressed the delicate up-turned nose into his clothed sex. “Daddy…”, Ralph moaned faintly, before reaching up and unzipping his fly, excitedly reaching inside and feeling for the pulsing flesh, caged inside the black boxers.  
“Clever boy!”, Jack groaned and let his husband nuzzle his crotch like a puppy, pulling out his penis and mouth at the glans, that was already crying pre-cum. “Look what you do to me! Why don’t you clean this mess up?”, he suggested, alongside with thrusting lightly into the pink-lipped mouth, that was welcoming him eagerly, whimpering in delight. Ralph’s head was swimming and he felt as if he did not have a care in the world. All he wanted to do was please his husband and he was sure, that whatever he did, he could not do any wrong. His head was drained of all thoughts, empty, but for pink cotton candy, his skin tingling with every touch Jack would allow him and set him on fire.  
He began sucking immediately, swirling his tongue around the tip as well as he could with a mouth-full of cock. Impressive cock that was. Jack was big. In every sense over of the word, thick and long all at once. And it tasted like heaven, like white, liquid sugar. Ralph was certain he could get addicted to the scent and taste. He probably already had. Giving Jack pleasure was immensely important to him, love and adoration eradiated from every fibre of his heart, pouring out utter happiness and satisfaction of the fact that he was allowed to be with this man.  
“Use your hand as well…”, Jack hissed, head thrown back, and his fingers intertwined within Ralph’s lock, tugging on them while encouraging in to take it deeper. The blond followed suit. “Such an obedient boy.”, he praised, sucking the air in harshly through his teeth. His manhood pulsed within the other man’s mouth and he felt himself close to coming, as he gently pushed him off. Looking down at his husband he found the sapphire eyes half hooded and glazed over, seemingly starring far away and his lips moist from the spit, that his body had produced to much of and which was dripping down the plush lower lip onto his hands, that he had brought into a dog-like sitting position as it begging to be used and taken. The older male found that he might be able to reach climax right then and there. What did he do right to be blessed with something as beautiful as this? Cheeks painted a deep pink, hair dishevelled and lips parted, huffing out hot air. He tossed the box of chocolate to the side, uncaring whether it would leave any stains and dragged the other with him into the bedroom, tossing him onto the queen-sized furniture that occupied most of the room. The golden silken sheets yielded under the Golden Boy’s weight and the bed creaked as Jack climbed atop it, straddling his husband in the process. Sitting on his thighs, he stripped himself of his jacked and shirt, as well as the tie and let them fall onto the carpeted floor, before he kicked off his already undone trousers. He instructed Ralph to do the same, who eagerly did his husband’s bidding. Reaching towards the nightstand, he pulled open the top drawer and grabbed the lube they kept there. He ushered the blond onto his back, littered the exposed skin of his lover’s neck with kisses, nibbled on his ear lobe, and somewhere, in the back of his mind and thoughts, Ralph felt the cold of the lube on his hole. “Shh…you’re safe, this won’t hurt. Daddy’s got you. All is well.”, Jack hushed, as he slowly pushed into the other’s body, well lubricated, dripping with fluid. He started moving immediately, slow, warm thrusts into the soft cavern, radiating heat and swallowing him whole. “Look…”, he panted. “Look how good you’ve been. Taking daddy in. All of daddy.” Ralph moaned involuntarily, loud, so it echoed back from the walls, filling the room and clinging to the sticky, heated skin. “Daddy!”, he rasped, hands wrapped around Jack’s broad back, fingers buried in the bright red locks and legs spread wide, bent in the knees. His head felt light, unable to form a thought, just empty and full at the same time. “Daddy…please…”  
“Yes? What does my babyboy want?”  
Ralph merely whimpered not able to do anything but.  
“Use your words, baby-boy.”, Jack kissed the top of his head, slamming into him, hard and merciless, already close enough, that if he let lose, he would tumble over the edge.  
“I wanna cum!”, the blond screeched, tears almost forming in the corners of his clear-blue eyes. “Please…” Jack groaned, when he had come home this day he would have never expected Ralph to play along, let alone be so engrossed in it.  
“Cum, baby-boy. Daddy wants you to cum…”, he panted and almost screamed, when Ralph did just that and his walls closed around the thick member buried inside. White painted the younger’s stomach and chest, his body laying limply underneath the red-heads as he spilled inside his husband. “Fuck…”, he rasped, arms no longer able to support his weight, as he crashed down on the blond man.  
“Fuck indeed.”, Ralph smiled up at him, tired, exhausted. “That was kinky.” He captured his husband’s lips in a kiss, nibbling on the lower lip and grinned against his mouth. “Thanks for playing along.”, Jack yawned, and moved behind his lover, one arm draped over the other middle, lips pressed against the blond’s back of the neck.  
“No worries, daddy.”, Ralph teased, intertwining his fingers with Jack’s, who suddenly and without warning kneeled him in the hollow of his knee. “Don’t. It’s only hot in bed.”

Roger did not recognise the number on the screen of his mobile as it lit up in the early hours of the morning. Early hours of the morning meaning around eight, as for Roger everything before ten was ungodly and should never be considered to be spent outside of bed. And if he had not go to work each day he would not bother getting up and step outside at seven. He let it ring, ignoring the vibration in the bag of thick jacket, as he got on the tube, squeezing into the crowd of thick-jacket-wearing people. He hated all of them. And especially the loud and obnoxious teenagers, that had all gathered around a boy, holding his phone, playing a video, they all found hilarious, causing them to laugh extremely loud. Roger groaned in frustration, as again, his mobile started to ring. Maybe it was Maurice, calling from his workplace. He did not have Costa’s landline number saved and his boyfriend had left two hours before he had. Exhaling harshly he ripped the irritating device out of his pocket and picked up, angrily shouting: “Hello?”  
“Roger? It’s me…Simon. From the Yoga-centre. Remember me?”  
Roger almost choked on the take-away coffee he had grabbed beforehand. Spitting the hot liquid all over his fingers and partly over the short man’s hat next to him, he hoarsely said: “Yes. Yes I do.” What ever could that man want? Has it not been enough that he had made an entire fool out of himself? That he had almost cheated on Maurice, pinning the twig of a yoga-teacher to the floor and having his way with him? Maybe he wanted to sue him? Accuse him of statutory rape! But could he really blame him? He had been expecting a client with more than one relationship problem, eager to sort them out with his loving boyfriend, so desperate he would even open his mind to alternative methods. But what did he get? A man, so sexually frustrated, he had jumped him and humped him like a dog in heat, growling, and even injuring the poor fellow! What an arsehole he was! He felt sweat breaking out on his forehead, a bead rolling down his cheek, nestling in the woollen collar of his jacket. “What do you want?”, he almost barked, fingers shaking, body shaking entirely and his brain imagining over and over again, how he would sit in court, handcuffed, a shivering Simon standing next to his lawyer, teary-eyed telling the story. He was fucked.  
“Uhm…I wanted to call…rather speak to you. Because of yesterday.”, the tiny voice on the other side sounded crystal clear, a bit nervous maybe, but not afraid. Rather than a schoolgirl talking to a boy they liked. “And I am terribly sorry, if this is not a good time, but…”  
“This time is just as good as any.”, Roger interrupted him, hearing him sigh in response. “Well, then. I’d like to have you back for another session. Maybe tonight, after hours of sorts.”, Roger heard a curse, spoken under breath.  
“What? What’s that mean? Why do you want me back?”, he barked, irritated, agitated rather.  
“I…bloody hell! Just come back! We have a lot of issues we gotta work through and…you’re a special case to me.”  
“Should I bring Maurice?”  
“Maurice?”  
“My boyfriend. The one I am doing this for!”  
“Oh right! Maurice!”, Simon sounded, unless he was imagining things, disappointed. “Sure thing! It’s all because of Maurice after all! Today at seven? Would that be alright for you two?”  
“Yeah, whatever. Whenever is fine. It was his idea after all.”, with that he hung up. Simon was batty, bonkers, mad. Why on God’s green bloody earth would he want him back in there, all alone with him? Why did he seem so unhappy when he mentioned Maurice? Simon knew that this was the reason he had started this thing in the first place, or had he forgotten about this? Maybe he wanted to arrange something unrelated to his job entirely? A meeting of some sorts? Cursing he shoved the phone back into his jacket. He had never been in a more frustrating situation! Was this not clearly an invitation to have sex? To repeat what they had done last night? What was a bloke to do upon receiving such an immoral offer, from a beauty like Simon no less! He could not cheat on Maurice, even tough he had already done something so closely to this the previous night.  
He downed his coffee and stepped out into the station, wet and cold, dumped the empty cup into a near-by bin and trotted up the stairs. He debated whether or not he should pop into Tesco’s to get something for lunch, but he decided against it, walking right into the Lloyd’s bank across the street, greeting his colleagues and dropping off his jacket in his office.  
“Morning.”, he greeted his co-worker, who was on the phone already, not with a costumer, but rather her husband. She did not spare him a second glance. Bitch.  
Roger switched on his computer, hand flinching to his mobile, which he had placed on his desk, next to the landline. He should call up Maurice. He should tell him, that they had an appointment with Simon that evening. They would work through their problems, they would make up and then they would maybe even get engaged. That thought scared him. He did not want his life to be over yet. Simon was exciting, the whole ordeal of meeting him, seeing him, even touching him; all of that made his body tingle and quiver. This was new, not worn out, not a one-night-stand that has turned into a stale relationship. Simon was not his boyfriend of how-many-he-could-not-even-remember years that expected stability and marriage and a house. That would nag about him never cooking dinner, coming home late, going out with his mates. He was not sitting at home, watching Netflix until the wee hours of the morning, just to crawl into bed, not sex in mind, but cuddling, because even their fucking had become boring. Unlike Jack he did not enjoy knowing every patch of Maurice’s chocolate skin, every mole and freckle, every scar and blemish. Jack liked that, he loved knowing Ralph inside and out, without Ralph he had felt incomplete, as if a part of him had been missing, but now, his husband was all that he had ever wanted. But Roger did not want that. He hated it even. Hated Maurice’s dreamer personality, hated how he would bring up the topic of selling the flat and buying a house over and over again. Hated how he went out with his friends, laughed so carelessly about all and everything and how he could not see how miserable his boyfriend was. He hated Maurice’s naturally flirty nature, how he was always seemingly smiling at blokes in the most alluring way. It made him angry, jealous. Maurice was his, but he did not want him. He wanted excitement, danger, his blood pumping vigorously through his veins, wanted to feel like a man again. Simon did this to him. The caramel skin, the dark-brown locks framing his elegant, young face. Green eyes looking up at him, as plush lips were wrapped around his… no. He should not think about this. He could not think about this. What was wrong with him? He loved Maurice, did he not?  
Quickly he picked up the phone and dialled his number.  
“Maurice, baby how are you?”

Right? I always thought Tinder was for losers who couldn’t find a date or just for hook-ups!  
Me too! But what would a pretty lady like you use Tinder for other than hook-ups? I’m sure, you can find dates a-plenty out there.  
Uhm…no. Actually no.  
What?  
Why not?  
Uhm…Patrick, there is something I have to tell you. I thought I wouldn’t have to bring it up until we agree to meet somewhere…  
You’re a serial killer.  
What? No!  
A cannibal and you prefer to eat chubby men!  
Dear God hahaha xD  
You’re a fatty-fetishist!  
Heavens, Pat, no!  
Pat?  
Yeah, it’s a nickname! Do all your friends call you just Patrick? That’s boring!  
Actually, they don’t call me Patrick at all…  
What do they call you then? Rick?  
Piggy  
Piggy?  
Piggy.  
Wow that’s mean! Why would they do that?  
Well, it’s a name they came up with in Primary. It stuck.  
That’s horrible  
Yeah  
I’m sorry  
It’s okay, I’m sure it’s endearing now…  
You wanted to tell me something  
Oh, yeah, right. I’m…you see I had an accident a few years ago and  
I’m paralysed from the waist down. I’m in a wheelchair.  
So?  
You’re not mad or anything?  
Why should I be mad that youre in a wheelchair? I’m not and I mean it’s a tragedy, but that’s it. You’re in a wheelchair. I feel sorry for you. It must be horrible, but how is that connected to not being able to find a bf?  
Cause people think I can’t have sex.  
What a bunch of arseholes. Dickheads, I mean, I’m sorry, but what the actual fuck? That’s their foremost concern? You’re an amazing woman, gorgeous, funny, unbelievably nice to talk to and this should keep me from going out with you? That you’re in a wheelchair? What the hell…People are pricks!  
Thanks, Pat! Thank you so much! I would love to meet up with you in person soon. What are you doing tomorrow evening?  
Noting really, thought of going to the pub with my mates…  
Pub sounds lovely! I’ll be coming too!

Piggy felt his heart skip a beat. Emma wanted to meet up with him! What did it matter whether she was disabled or not! She most likely lived alone, had a job and took care of herself. What a bunch of arseholes people were, superficial morons. But he would know, would he not. He stared at the donut the had gotten from Krispy Kreme and felt as if he should toss it. Maybe Emma was finally a motivation to drop a couple pounds. He would. Right after he finished his donut.

Maurice took a deep drag of his lunch break cigarette. “What a time to be alive.”, he thought, watching the wind blow the fallen leaves across the pavement. Rushed businessmen and –women in fancy suits hurried past him, hands in pockets or wrapped around steaming cups of Starbucks, as they shouted into headphones, leading into devices no-where to be seen. A group of Primary School children walked past him, kids in pairs, hand in hand, all prim and proper in der uniforms, obediently following their teachers, one in the front and one in the back, to make sure none of them would go missing. “In a few years…”, the young man thought. “They will go out, get pissed and hook up with strangers.” He flicked the butt onto the ground, lighting a new one and stared at the smoke vanishing into cold air. His mobile rang. Without even sparing the number a look, the answered: “Tell it Maurice!” He did not expect to hear an uncertain voice on the other end of the receiver. “Uhm…hi, Maurice. It’s Henry!”  
“Henry?”  
“The…uhm…the pretty boy?”  
“Oh, yeah! Hi Henry! How’re you?”  
“Good…well actually. I wanna take you up on your offer.”  
“My offer?”  
“Y’know to trash talk about Jack. My boss. The mean one.”  
“Oh yeah! I remember!”  
“Do you give your number out so frequently, that your forget who you give it to?”, Henry sounded legitimately hurt.  
“Baby, I’m messing with you. Of course not! How could I ever forget such a pretty face?”, he purred, knowing perfectly well, that Roger would hit the roof if he heard him talk like this. But Roger was not here right now in this very moment. And Maurice wanted to feel desired again. All those months, laying in bed, hoping to be grabbed and shagged properly, all in vain, got to him, more than he was willing to admit. He wanted romance, sure, but he also wanted Roger to be Roger again, a fierce beast, that could pick him up with one arm, shag him against the wall and leave him breathless and unable to speak. Security and stability was all good and well, but where had the passion gone? Was he not desirable anymore now that he had gotten older? He had known from the very first words he had exchanged with Henry, that the boy wanted him. For his looks, his undeniable charms, that so many women and men could not resist. Of course he would never cheat on his boyfriend, but having a little fun with the pasty boy could not be so wrong, could it? Roger never had to find out!  
“Oh…oh dear!”, he heard Henry squeak. “I wanted to ask whether I could meet up with you tonight? At your work-place maybe? I really need someone to talk to! What time are you off today?”  
“Seven. If you wanna come and pick me up we can grab something to eat if you want to. I have nothing better to do!”, which was not even a lie, as Roger had called him up earlier, telling him that he had made spontaneous plans with Jack and would not be home until late. “Sounds amazing!”, he knew Henry was practically beaming on the other side of the line now. “Thank you so much! I’ll pick you up, where do you want to go?”  
“Your pick, babe. I’m sure that someone with such a pretty face can only have amazing taste in food as well. You do have an amazing taste in men none the less, but I must say, so do I!”, he was luring him in just like he had always done, Henry would be wrapped around his finger in no time and he would feel good again. Poor fellow. But this was self-care and self-care only. He deserved a little fun after all these endless days without any.  
“Oh…Maurice! I don’t know what to say!”  
“Already speechless? Well, I was not expecting for that to happen until later on in this relationship.”  
“Maurice…”  
“Pretty boy?”  
“See you at seven!”, he almost shouted and hung up. The dark man gave a satisfied smile, he could not deny that his heart was racing, but for the first time in a very long while, he felt wanted.

Simon ushered his last clients out the door hurriedly. “Thank you so much, see you next week!”, he waved them good bye and stood almost lost in the centre of the hall. How could he have been so stupid! Of course this had been a one-time thing. A spur-of-the-moment kind of mistake. Roger had a boyfriend. He was the reason he had reached out to him in the first place, rather Maurice, the boyfriend had reached out to him and made an appointment. How could he have been so naïve? Had he learned nothing from prior experience? Was he really so desperate, so pent up with sexual energy, that he called and asked Roger to hook up? Did all the masturbating and meditating do nothing? A call-boy would have seemed less needy.  
And now, after all he had done to embarrass himself, he was standing there waiting for Roger. Maybe he should go and take a huge sip of the vegan wine he had purchased last week. It was probably easier to bear looking at the two all nice and intimate when he was properly smashed.  
Suddenly the doors slid open and in came a man, much taller and broader than him , dark hair, pale skin and deep blue eyes, packed in thick jacket, hands dug deeply into the pockets, white flakes of snow clinging to his hair and a low, rumbling voice said: “Maurice couldn’t make it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of abuse, blood and questionable consent during sexual activities and Roger's really fucked up phantasies. You have been warned!!   
> Also I've proof-read this chapter but I am really exhausted and tired and here you go!!

Simon’s breath hitched. Never had he imagined his body reacting so strongly to an almost stranger. He had seen this man once, once in his life and still, he felt as if his heart was to jump out of his chest. He swallowed hard, fists clenched, fingers buried in the pleats of trousers.   
“Sure, come in. No problem. We can…we can work…just with you…”, the younger man’s throat went dry. He was certain, his face was as red as an overly ripe tomato, but he tried his best to remain calm, trying to mimic a professional who had simply welcomed their client in, not a mess, crushing on a man he had met once in his lifetime. But dear hell, was Roger attractive. All tall and broad and his hair in disarray. Snow covering his thick jacket, cheeks painted pink by the cold wind casting through these narrow Soho streets and eyes, bluer than the god forsaken sea. He wanted to kiss those chapped lips, destroyed by what he fathomed to be the other man’s teeth, longed to feel the strong, powerful body against his again. He could feel his manhood stir and tug between his legs. He was pathetic.  
Roger tilted his head slightly, unsure of what to make of this whole ordeal. Maybe he should have stayed home after all, or the very least he should not have lied to his boyfriend. He could picture him, all alone on the sofa, wine glass in hand, filled to the brim with dark red liquid, watching some stupid comedy show, that only Maurice could ever find funny. Like Chatty Man. Laughing his signature Maurice-laughter, squinting his eyes a bit, so the tiny amount of crowfeet would show. But why was he thinking about boring Maurice, when this beauty stood right before him? Fudge-y caramel-goodness Simon. All fidgety and nervous, leaving no doubt about whether or not this had been an actual booty-call. He stepped closer, watching as the boy, he did not even know his age, but definitely a couple years younger than him, took two steps backwards.   
“He’s meeting a friend later on in the evening, so it’s just me. I hope we can still do whatever you wanted to?”, Roger took of his jacket, rolling his shoulders a bit, getting used to the warm room, a harsh contrast to the freezing temperatures outside. Simon gave him a bright smile. “Sure we can! Would you like some tea? I recently purchased some by a rather new vegan brand and I’ve yet to taste it. So if you want to, we can have a cup.”, he offered and Roger just now realised that I already had half expected that batty kid to be a vegan. “Yeah. Why not.”, he responded and followed the thin man to a conjoining room, left to the changing room that led into the one, they had had their encounter last time he had been here. It turned out to be a kitchenette with a tiny, red sofa, a couple photos on the wall of Simon and what turned out to be Ralph, as well as a round table loaded to its limit with magazines and a laptop balanced atop the stack, dangerously close to just sliding off and crushing to the floor. “Please sit down.”, Simon offered and turned to rummage around one of the cupboards, looking for the tea.   
“Didn’t know you were vegan…”, it was a lame conversation starter, given Roger had met the other man only once and they had hardly talked about personal matters aside from his…problems.   
“Yes!”, Simon chirped. “Went vegan four years ago and I’ll never go back! Do you know how bad milk actually is for your system? And that eggs only make things worse? I was a relatively sickly and weak child and teenager and since I quit consuming animal products I’ve been the healthiest I’ve been in years!” He had to stop himself. He did not want Roger to take him for one of these daft vegan advocates that tried to convince the entire world to lay off milk and eggs. He cleared his throat, and switched on the kettle. Roger stared at one of the photographs. It showed Simon and Ralph at the airport, hugging. The brown-haired man was holding onto a worn out bag, wearing a lose, ill fitted tank-top that showed a faded print of a pier and letters that read “Brighton”. He looked immensely happy. It was surrounded by a thin, silvery frame. In the right corner Simon had written the date the photo had been taken. 23rd of June, 201–. A year ago.   
He felt a warm body pressed up behind his and smelled the faint scent of flowers and incense that clung to Simon, as the other man spoke up, right next to his ear. “That was when I left for the island. I spent an entire year there. It was just me by myself, surrounded by nature and nothing else. It was an amazing, mind opening experience. I found myself that year. I now know who I truly am.” From the corner of his eyes Roger watched the other’s plush lips move. Smoothly. Just like his voice and a shiver of something he could not describe raced down his spine. He longed to touch him.   
The unbearable sound of the kettle ran though the room and had Simon prepare the tea.  
“Let’s go inside!”, he said.

The tea tasted like grass. Or straw. Or something equally tasteless and Roger, being not a big fan of tea in general, felt let down. He did not know why but none the less he was disappointed. Maybe he had felt as nothing bad could ever come from Simon and how he was forced to chug down meadow-tea. The other man looked similarly unimpressed.   
“So. The reason I called you here was…”, he sighed, starring down onto the mattress, not knowing what to say. “Well, I don’t know. This might sound foolish, but I wanted to see you again. It’s just that. I should pretend that it was for another session, shouldn’t I?”, he sheepishly smiled at his opposite, fingers tapping against the green mug that he held in his hands as if it was a life-saver. Roger stared at the tiny man. He did out right admit that he had had something different in mind than messing with his whatever he had called it. Had it been chakra? It did not really matter right now.   
“Maurice and I have problems.”, he said. He did not know why. Why he wanted to talk about his boyfriend right now. Maybe to justify why he had not brought him. Why he was there, but Simon seemed interested in what he had to say. “We’ve had problems now for month. He won’t fucking talk to me. Not any more than necessary. We started out as a one-night stand. We’ve been friends all throughout school. And one night at a reunion party, after I hadn’t seen him for years, we drank too much. We started talking, about school times, about life, about how he was bisexual and about how I wanted to try it with a guy. We ended up on the loo, making out, jacking each other off and this night he had been the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. He spent the night at my place. We shagged. Multiple times. Until the sun came up. And we went out for lunch the next day. We started dating soon after. I thought he was the love of my fucking life. Turned out he wasn’t. Turned out everything turned mundane to fucking fast and I couldn’t enjoy being with him anymore. We moved in, cause I reckoned it would get better. Things would change. A new environment of sort. Well…they didn’t. We fell into a routine and I can’t have that. I don’t want the same boring things every day. I want more than that. Maurice has grown boring on me, predictable. There’s nothing new I can learn about him. He’s like a book I’ve read a million times, a film I’ve seen over and over again. I need new. And exciting.” His gaze locked on Simon who’s eyed had went wider and wider throughout him voicing his desires. Although Roger had not been referring directly to the other man he was certain that he had understood it as that. That was more than all right to him. He smirked at the crimson that spread over Simon’s cheeks, slowly growing until it had reached his ears.   
“I understand where you’re coming from, but isn’t stability what everyone wants at some point in their life? I’m single at the moment but seeing a lot of couples every day, it makes me want experience the same. Love and adoration from a man I as well love and adore.” He mentally slapped himself. This was not what he had wanted to say. It sounded as if he was trying to coax Roger into a relationship with him, just to bore him too and have him leave him as well. But the other man did none but laugh. “Are you trying to convince me to stay with Maurice, so the whole ordeal here won’t look like a desperate attempt at recreating what we did yesterday?”  
“Fuck no!”  
“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth!” And with that Roger was on top of him, pressing him down onto the mattress and kissing him fiercely. Spilled tea soaked their clothes, already cooled down, spreading all over the floor. Simon’s hands flush against his chest in a futile attempt to push him away. Never meant seriously, just to keep up the appearance of not wanting this. (find a better word for that) Roger licked his earlobe, tugged on it with his teeth and growled: “You’re exciting. You smell so good. Hell, I could eat you alive. You make me so hard.” His hips bucked against Simons and the younger man let out a guttural moan. “Don’t tell me you don’t want this.”   
“Roger…”, he hoarsely whispered, still reluctant to give in.   
“I know this is what you called me here for. So why not do it?”  
“Cause…you have a boyfriend.”  
Roger chuckled, the deep warm base of his voice making Simon’s body shiver and long for his touch. “So what? He doesn’t have to know. I’ll take you. I’ll have you. You make my heart race. I want to possess you with every fibre of my body. I want you more than you can imagine. I want to taste your blood again. I could hardly sleep tonight, thinking about how prettily you moan how good the red tastes that comes out of wounds. Let me bite you again.” Simon was so eager to just give in. His arms wrapped around the other male’s neck as he let Roger explore his tender throat with his tongue. “Roger!”, he whimpered as the older man bit down again. The same exact spot he had bitten the day before and he did cease until he again tasted blood. The rich taste flooded his mouth as the delicious sounds Simon made flooded his ears and he felt himself drowning in a sea of sensation, drinking what gave the tan boy life. His manhood grew harder than it ever had with Maurice. The way Simon gave in, how submissive he was, drove him insane. There was no way he could stop himself tonight. He kissed him again, holding him down, exerting power over him he could never have over Maurice. This boy was the holy grail of a sub. He would have his way with him and if not this night then another. Simon would be his and he would fill him inside out.   
A dark growl spilled over his lips against Simon’s and the other man moaned, pressing his hips up. Roger spun them around, so the other man was on top of him, hands buried in the black strands of his hair, clawing at his scalp. The taller man raked his fingers over the small back above him, hearing Simon whimper and sob. He grabbed the other’s locks and harshly tugged his head backwards, so he could again nibble on the caramel coloured neck. “Atta boy.”, he mumbled as he again felt the other buck against his crotch. “You look so beautiful. I’ll tear you apart.” His entire being tingled at the thought of bringing him pain. He did not even care what kind of pain. Just making him hurt and bleed and willing.   
He pictured him on his knees, face smeared with blood, tears and cum, lips parted, plush and red and abused. His bum littered with lashes, swollen and bright red, eyes half lidded and his penis hard and aroused, leaking desperately with pre-cum but a cock-ring snuggly against the flesh keeping it from release.   
He kissed him sloppily with a lot of tongue, much like a teenager that did not know any better, his hands found two perfect mounds of soft bum and squeezed. He wanted to be buried in this, his cock nestled warmly in his tight little hole.   
“I’ll have you. You’ll be mine.” He breathed and dove in for another kiss, as Simon pushed him away gently. “Not tonight.”, he said calmly, but determined. He kissed his nose and rolled off him, coming to lie beside his client. “But you will. The strange thing is, that I don’t even feel bad for your boyfriend. I should, but I can’t bring myself to do so. Maybe you’re just to bloody attractive.” Roger heard the younger man giggle and as he turned his head to look at him, he felt lost. Lost in amazement, adoration and…was it love? How could he. He knew that he did not love Simon. He had met the man twice. I was certainly lust. Lust and maybe a bit of wonder as to how such a beautiful being could even exist. He was so pure, untainted. “Don’t you feel bad? Cheating on Maurice?”   
“I should, shouldn’t I? But being with him…it’s so dull…”, suddenly he laughed manically. “All relationship and no fucking around makes Roger a dull boy!” Simon snorted, a hand coming up to stroke the other’s cheek.   
“So…do you crave the attention or the sparks or the excitement? Of fucking around I mean?”  
“Careful, Dr. Freud, you seem to be getting to the bottom of my problem.”, Roger half joked and rolled atop of him. He pecked him quickly on the lips and said: “We don’t want that all too soon, since I’d have to stop coming to ‘sessions’.” Simon smirked. “True, true. Let’s say I still don’t know what is wrong with you. Also you don’t seem to have any of your problems with me!”, he giggled and let his knee craze the bulge in Roger’s trousers, who’s facial expressions suddenly turned stone-cold. “Because it’s not me. It’s Maurice.”, he growled. Less playful and more – threatening. Simon suddenly did not know what to make of that sudden change in mood. He swallowed hard and tried to worm his way out from underneath Roger, who had an iron grip around his wrists and whose fingers seemed to tighten with every movement the younger man made. “I don’t have a problem. I know I can keep it up. For hours, if you will. But Maurice won’t let me hurt him.”, a lunatic smile seemed to split his face in half as he stared down at Simon like a maniac who was about to murder his victim. Simon was scared. He was legitimately scared; his heart raced against his chest, breathing became impossible, as he did not know what to do this very moment. Helplessly he tried not to do anything that would rile his captor on.   
“Oh.”, Roger purred, leaning down so that their faces were only separated by a few inches. Hot breath ghosted over Simon’s face and he screwed his eyes shut, ready to take whatever blow that was coming for him. “Are you afraid, little mouse? You better should be. You know what they called me at school? Merridew’s henchman. You know why?” His voice dropped lower, now sounding directly next to Simon’s ear. “Cause I killed a man.” The younger man let out a desperate whimper, started to squirm, eager to get away. “Yes. I love it, when they’re scared. You make the prettiest sounds. All whimpering and squirming.”, Roger laughed again, pressing his body harder against Simon’s and let his fingers rake over the other’s back. It was more than a little bit painful. The younger man cried out loudly and Roger had to bite back a moan. Fuck, he was hot. That was so hot. “Good boy.”, he breathed, kissing Simon’s cheek once more, before pushing himself of the other man and standing up. “Be careful, what you wish for, little mouse. You might never know when the fun and games are over! Maybe one day the cat will catch you and this cat wants it’s mouth!”, he snickered. “But if you do change your mind, you got my number, give me a call and we can meet up somewhere a little bit more…privately.” With that he turned on his heels and marched towards the door that led out of Simon’s meditation room. A wet patch had formed in the front of his trousers. Seeing the other man helpless and in distress really had aroused him. If only Maurice could make such pretty sounds.

Simon watched Roger leave. Unable to move and scared to no end. How could he have misjudged a situation that much? Roger had made it clear what exactly got him going during the last session, but had Simon listened to the warning signs? No he had not. Because he had been a fool once again. And here he was now. Staring longingly after a man that had threatened to rape him just now. What was wrong with him? “Roger! Wait!”, he shouted. The other turned around, a weakly masked grin of victory on his lips. “Maybe…”, Simon started out, but stopped, not knowing how to continue. He swallowed and said, with little more confidence: “Maybe this little mouse wants to be caught. Maybe it wants to be devoured by a demonic cat!” With that he stood up as well and stumbled after him. Roger simply chuckled, grazing the other’s cheek with his knuckles, feeling the velvet skin und his. “Not now. What about Saturday? I’ll show you a hell of a good time!”, he replied and walked out.

“Are you fucking mental?”, Simon nearly screeched at himself, kicking one of the mattresses and stormed out of his store. “I need a bottle of whatever!”

Henry was standing patiently outside of Costa’s waiting for Maurice’s shift to end. He had lit a cigarette that he held between shaking fingers taking shallow drags that filled his lungs with heavy smoke. He hated smoking. He had tried to quit three times but he had failed each one. Henry had never been a brave man. He had been a cowardice boy and grown into such a man as well but this day he had actually had the guts to ask a man, who he had seen once, out on a date. And now he was standing there outside his work-place. His heart was pounding in his chest, his palms were sweaty and the end of his cigarette was damp. He was going to lose it and run home before Maurice was even off work.   
Behind him the door swung open and out came – not Maurice. A tall, blond man holding a key between his index-finger and thumb glared at him and said: “We’re closed!”   
“I…I know. I’m simply waiting for Maurice.”, Henry stammered letting his cigarette fall to the cold, wet ground where it went out. “Don’t worry, he’s with me!” a cheery voice sounded behind the other man and Maurice stepped out into the night. Henry felt himself blush. Never in his life had he seen such a handsome man. Maurice was all dark beauty. Warm colours and jet black curls atop his head. His nose was littered with even darker freckles and honey coloured eyes smiled at him, warm and welcoming and loving and Henry’s heart skipped a beat. Being aware, that he was not the best-looking man in the world he suddenly felt inadequate. But how could anyone ever feel good enough for Maurice? Said man fumbled with a pack of cigarettes and lit one immediately as if he had not had one in hours. Smiling he offered Henry one but the younger man declined. “I’m trying to quit…”, he mumbled, knowing very well that this was a lie but he wanted to make a good impression. Usually he would not have given a damn about keeping up a certain appearance, but Maurice, Maurice was a special case. He did seem impressed. “Wow. I do respect that. Makes me want to quit as well. Just kidding. I’ve been smoking long enough that I’m properly addicted. Started age thirteen, I was one of the bad boys in school.”, he laughed light-heartedly and Henry chuckled along. He had been the one everybody had beaten up.   
“So…where do you wanna go? Grab some light snack and go to my place maybe?”, he could not believe he had just said that. Maurice gave him a bright grin. “Sounds like a good plan. I’d love to do that! After hours spent dealing with people, I really need some time far away from them!” “We can also order in. I mean. I don’t want to assume. But, I thought…“, he stammered, unsure of how to save the situation, but the taller man simple laid a hand upon his pale cheek and stroked it, leaning closer. „Don’t be nervous. I’d love to go to your’s.“  
He tossed his cigarette butt to the damp ground and stepped on it, spreading the cold ashes and filter all over the concrete. „Although you are very adorable when you’re blushing.“   
Henry shoved both his hands into the pockets of his coat, unsure of what to do. He had never been so nervous around another man that had shown any interest in him, but to be fair, none of them had been nearly as good looking as Maurice was. „I live down the street. A ten minute walk at most.“, he jerked his head in the direction of his flat and the other man flashed him a bright smile once again. Yes, that proofed to be interesting. Maybe after this evening he would know again what Roger meant to him. Maybe he did not have to go all the way to proof to himself that he was still in love with his boyfriend. „Well, let’s go.“ Henry let out a breath he had not been aware he had held.   
It was a short walk, filled with meaningless talk and the younger man nervously glancing at his date, making sure that this was indeed real and not a very elaborate dream his brain had made him have to finally satisfy his yearning for touch and affection. He had not had a partner in two years, after his ex-girlfriend had walked out on him during a bad argument, slamming the door to their flat shut, never to return. Two days later a burly man had shown up, who had turned out to be her step-brother form Poland, collecting her belongings. Henry had truly loved her but they had split and he had not been ready to enter another relationship and after countless, meaningless one-night-stands that had plummeted his self-esteem into an deep pit, he had given up on finding love. Until the day before, when he met this dark beauty leaving his number on a take-away coffee-cup. He could not believe his luck. And now Maurice was next to him, watching over his shoulder as he turned the key in the lock to his flat, reveling a tiny apartment, that consisted of a small living room, a door leading into a bedroom twice the size and a bathroom, bigger than the other two rooms combined. Whoever had designed the flat had hopefully gotten fired. Once Henry had bought a couch-table and as he did not have enough space to place it in the living-room, it had quickly found a new home next to his ridiculously big bath-tub. He had sold it shortly after.  
„You don’t have to take off your shoes!“, the shorter man, assured Maurice, but the other simply chuckled and continued doing just that. He walked up to his host and snatched his glasses from the delicate face, placing them atop his own nose. His vision went blurry, and a slight headache started to spread. He quickly handed them back and asked: „How blind are you.“   
„Pretty blind!“ 

They sat comfortably on Henry’s couch, beer in hand and a half-eaten pizza laid out between them. The blond man’s fingers placed with the label wrapped around the bottle’s neck and chuckled at the story Maurice just had told him. This man was so entertaining! Whereas Henry was a shy introvert, Maurice proofed to be the exact opposite and it was relaxing listening to him talk, as it killed any awkward silence between them. He propped his elbow up on the back of the couch and smiled at the dark man in front of him. „God, you’re wonderful.“, he whispered, knowing fully well, that the alcohol he had consumed over the course of the evening had already taken full effect.   
„Am I?“  
„Yeah! You’re amazing to talk to, not to mention funny and incredibly handsome! Any man and woman would be lucky just to look at you.“  
„You’re pretty pretty yourself. I love your eye-colour. Like sweet hazelnuts. And you have the most kissable lips. So plush and rosy.“ And with that sentence said, he had a lapful of Henry, kissing him, as if his life depended on it. Shit. This was not going as planned. He had planned to take him out for dinner, flirt a bit and then walk home, all reassured that he still could score men much younger than him. Why had he agreed to join him in his flat, get tipsy and then had not tried to stop the aggressive flirting that had obviously going on? Because he would have never taken Henry for a man that would initiate anything. He would have taken him for the type that needed to be wooed and convinced to do anything that included touching. But the hardening cock against his abdomen proofed him entirely wrong. What a fool he had been! His hands clasped around the round buttocks of the younger man. He should stop that. Right now. But Henry’s tongue in his mouth felt all too good. And God, felt he wanted! So desired and attractive again. Something Roger had not managed to make him feel in months. The tiny mewls that left Henry’s mouth, the pale hands tugging on his black locks and the white teeth nipping on his full lower lip drove him insane. He needed it. He needed to take this man right now.

Roger could hear his boyfriend loading the dishwasher in the kitchen as he stepped into their flat. „Maurice, babe!“, he called for the other man, that appeared seconds later to plant a kiss upon his cheek. He reeked of beer and Roger wrinkled his nose. „Were you out?“  
„Yeah. Michael, you remember Michael? He asked me to join him for a beer or two. You don’t though. Didn’t you meet up with Jack?“  
„We did. I picked him up from work. We went out for dinner.“, he tried to shove Maurice off. He did not mind lying to his partner but he needed time to think of a coherent story. Contrary to what he had expected the other man did buy his excuse and did not ask anymore questions. Instead he wrapped his hands around Roger’s neck peppering tiny kisses all the way up to his ear, lowly growling he whispered: „I need it.“ The taller man was about to push him away but then he said something that he had never heard Maurice say: „Hurt me. Make me bleed.“  
He could not remember how he had laid him down on the bed, how he had taken him, hands held above his head, securely so he could not have stopped him, how he had ripped open the skin on his neck, throat laid bare and presented for Roger to destroy, how he had thrust into him, no boundaries, no stopping until he had spilled himself into the other’s hole, all the while the taste of lovely copper on his lips and cries of pain and pleasure twirled into a beautiful cacophony filled the room, echoed from the walls until they lay next to each other – spent and happy and for the first time they held onto each other as they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I promise, I'll try to keep this updated more regularly


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